Another World
by Samantha14
Summary: What if Lorelai had given Rory up for adoption? How different would their lives be? *COMPLETED!* And on chapter 13, no less....
1. The Beginning

Title: Another World  
Chapter One: The Beginning  
  
Okay, so originally, this was started as the first chapter of "What If?" which is this other story I was working on, but I'm just gonna remove that, because every single review I got, they kept saying how it all culminated too soon (although not neccessarily in those words) so I'm rewriting the first chapter and making it into a story. Oh, and I also can't think of anything else to write for "What If?" so that's part of the reason. Anyway, it's the beginning, introducing everything. Enjoy! Oh, and I don't own Gilmore Girls. I do own a few of these characters, but not many, although I definitely own the storyline. Anyway, please read and review!   
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
Oh, it's a big pain it's a big pain IT'S A BIG PAIN!!!! AHHHHH!!! AND NOW IT'S...going away, it's fading away, and...it's stopping, and now it's over. It's over.  
  
"Okay, the contraction's over, Lorelai. You can breathe easy," the nurse rubs my hair back. I squeeze her hand, and at first she smiles, but after all the blood rushes from it, she tries as hard as she can to abruptly pull my squeezing toy away. I groan, slightly, but Christopher, that bastard who put me in this position, smiles and walks over, offering his hand. I gladly take it and continue squeezing, even though the pain is over.  
  
"Lorelai," my mother walks into the hospital room. I groan.  
  
"Mom."  
  
"The family is here," she says softly. I abruptly drop Chris' hand and hug both of my arms around me.   
  
"I don't want to see them."  
  
"Come on, Lorelai, why not?" Chris whispers.  
  
"Because it will be too real."  
  
"It's going to happen, if you don't see them or not." Mom points out. God, I could smack her sometimes. I'm not in denial or anything, I know what's going to happen. I know that even if I don't meet this snooty rich family, they're still going to take my baby away from me. My mother points this out every single time they call her, or come by the house. I just want to prolong my time with this tiny little human being that's been living in my body for nine months, this tiny little baby who will leave me in two days, and never look back, because the adoption is private, and I don't want my baby to know that I had to leave her. I look at Chris, and he nods and leaves, muttering a simple explanation to my mother as he walks out of the room. I look at Mom, and she sighs and lowers her head.  
  
"I'm going to get you...some coffee. I'll be back in a few minutes."  
  
I look at her, shocked. Did she just say she was getting me coffee? That fabulous elixir of the gods? Was she just...nice? I nod, mutely, and she smiles a genuine smile and walks out of the room. I sigh and lean back onto the pillows, and then suddenly gasp as another, stronger contraction hits me. My father wanders in from the hallway, and I smile through my tears as a brand-new squeezing toy laces his fingers through mine.  
  
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**Christopher Hayden**  
  
I walk out of Lor's hospital room into the hallway. I look around and eventually spot a tense couple sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs what seems to be 20 miles away. I recognize the look in the woman's eyes--excitement mixed with monumental fear. I've seen it in Lorelai's eyes for months. I can't face these people...not now.  
  
I turn around and almost run into Emily--er, Mrs. Gilmore--as she hurries out of Lor's room.  
  
"Christopher, I thought you were talking to the family!"   
  
"I am, I just want to make sure I know who they are."  
  
"They're right there, Christopher!" She points, and my eyes follow her discreet finger to the weary couple I just turned from.  
  
I swallow and nod. Now I _have_ to go talk to them. Emily pushes me. I start walking, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. Suddenly I look up and I'm standing in front of the couple. The man stands.  
  
"Mr. Hayden?" he asks, hesitantly, and I can tell he's uncomfortable calling a sixteen-year-old "mister." To tell the truth, I'm uncomfortable being called "mister"...too much responsibility.  
  
"Yes, sir, I'm Christopher Hayden." I hold out my hand. "You can call me Chris."  
  
"Chris," he repeats, relaxing visibly as he shakes my hand. "I'm Johnathan, and this is my wife." He gestures to the woman next to him, who to my surprise, looks to be about five months pregnant.  
  
"Alexis DuGrey," she says cooly, offering a slim, manicured hand. I take it, not sure what to do. Finally I shake it, and then she abruptly drops my hand.  
  
That's over, obviously.  
  
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**Alexis DuGrey **  
  
I am utterly terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. And now that I'm distancing myself from this sixteen-year-old standing in front of me, I'm scaring _him_, too. My therapist has warned me extensively about this. I need to act warmer around people, instead of using my wealth and social status to cooly offer my name and hand. I take a deep breath with my eyes closed, and then I open them to look directly into the face of young Christopher Hayden. I smile. Genuinely. I'm so proud of myself.  
  
"Chris, won't you sit down?" I gesture to the plastic seat next to me. He looks at it warily, and I can tell the chairs in his home aren't plastic, either. After a minute, though, he finally sinks down, and I can see he's tired.  
  
"Can I ask you something?" he asks both Johnathan and me.  
  
"Sure," John nods next to me.  
  
"Why are you adopting my--her--_our_ baby if you're going to have your own?"  
  
"Oh." I blush.  
  
"We'd already signed the papers when we found out Lex was pregnant."  
  
"It was just a few months ago we found out," I explain.  
  
"And we wanted to help the three of you out, so we decided not to back out of the arrangement."  
  
"Besides, this one," I start, touching my stomach briefly, "is a miracle baby, and probably the only one I'll have on my own, and since every child needs a sibling, it's good for both of them."  
  
"Lor and I are both only children."  
  
"But you both grew up--are growing up--together, correct?"   
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Practically like brother and sister?"  
  
"Not quite, since they're having a child, Lex." John points out.  
  
"Well, I know that, sweetie, but still. They were the closest thing they each had to a sibling, correct?" I turn to the boy, who I'm afraid I've once again frightened. "Oh, I'm sorry, are we overwhelming you?"  
  
"No. I mean, it's not exactly you, just this whole damn business."  
  
"I can imagine," John starts up wryly. "I'm finding becoming a father daunting, and I'm thirty-four. I can't even imagine going through this whole idea at the age of sixteen."  
  
"It's worse for him, though," I whisper to my husband, looking at Chris' face, who is staring off into space. "He's got to give his baby up."  
  
Chris suddenly shakes his head and turns back to us. He smiles, sadly.  
  
"I think I should get back to Lor now." He stands up, and then holds his hand out to John. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. DuGrey, and you, too, Mrs. DuGrey." He turns to me and I shake his hand.  
  
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Chris."   
  
"I gotta get back." He turns and walks quickly back to the hospital room.   
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"Christopher," I say sweetly, holding one finger up and gesturing him towards me as he walks into my room.   
  
"Lorelai," he responds, walking to where I lay sprawled in bed.  
  
"Wonderful, handsome Christopher," I continue sweetly until he is close enough for me to grab his hand. "You terrible, horrible boy!" A slight twist of my hand, and he's on his knees from the pain. Oh, joy!  
  
"Feeling bad, Lor?" he struggles to get out.  
  
"Oh, no, of course not, Chris! Speaking of pain, when was the last time you pushed a pot roast through your nostirl?!" I scream towards the floor where he is. Luckily, the pain is rapidly subsiding, so I release his hand and lay back. I sense him standing up and so I point to the TV mounted on the wall.  
  
"Can you turn the TV on for me, Chris? I'm bored."  
  
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**Emily Gilmore**  
  
I finally manage to wrangle a tiny cup of coffee from the damn machine in the damn waiting room and I'm walking back to Lorelai's room and passing the nurses's station when the snobbiest one calls out, "Excuse me, Miss?"  
  
I sigh and turn around. The people at this hospital are completely insufferable. "What?"  
  
"Are you taking that coffee in the labor room?"  
  
What does it look like, idiot? "Yes, I am, why?"  
  
"You can't give that to the person in labor. She's not allowed to eat or drink until after the baby is born."  
  
"Well," I am at a complete loss of words. Suddenly, I get an idea. "What if she was thirsty, or her throat was dry?"  
  
"Ice chips," the nurse responds, handing me a cup full to the brim with little ice chips.  
  
"Can she drink the water after it melts?"  
  
The nurse just gives me a look, so I take the cup and retreat into Lorelai's room.  
  
"Coffee!" she exclaims as soon as she sees me. I shake my head.  
  
"The nurse at the desk said you can't eat or drink anything until after the baby's born." I hand the cup to Lorelai. "You can have ice chips, though. That nurse was so horribly rude, too!" I exclaim as I sit in a hospital chair next to Richard.  
  
"So you really hated this nurse, huh, Mom?"  
  
I look up at Lorelai and recognize that horrible glint in her eyes.   
  
"What are you thinking? Where's Christopher?" I look around for him, but my gaze settles back on my daughter. "What are you going to do?" I ask as I notice her juggling a single piece of ice in her hand, almost as if she's getting ready to throw.  
  
"Oh, nothing," she smiles sweetly, and then her smile gets wider as the rude nurse from before walks into her room.  
  
"Lorelai," I warn as I notice her arm moving back, getting ready to strike.  
  
"Relax, Mom," she rolls her eyes at me, and then looks back at her target. She grins and then throws her arm forward, letting go of the ice as she does so.  
  
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**Alexis DuGrey**  
  
I snap awake. My little one is kicking. It's only about the third time he or she has done so. I jab John in the ribs, and he snaps awake also.  
  
"What the hell?" he exclaims. I smile.  
  
"He's kicking."  
  
"It's a he?"  
  
"I'm using the term broadly. It could still be a girl. He's kicking!" I grab my husband's hand and place it on the side of my stomach that's slightly moving.  
  
"Are you sure it's not the spicy food from dinner?"  
  
I jab him in the ribs again, and the familiar teasing smile comes to his face. He resettles his hand on my stomach, and just as the baby is giving him a monstrous kick in the wrist, there's a scream from the room behind us. A nurse runs out, and Emily Gilmore follows her.  
  
"I can sue for this, you know!" The nurse yells in Emily's face.  
  
"Oh, I know, you old fuddy-duddy! But give her a break! She's sixteen, she's having a baby, and she's scared."   
  
"I can still sue!" The nurse angrily resettled herself behind the desk. Emily started to walk back to her daughter's room, but apparently thought better of it. To my surprise, she walked behind the desk, grabbed a cup of ice chips, and overturned it on top of the nurse's head.  
  
"Relax!" she yelled, before finally running back into the hospital room.  
  
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**Christopher Hayden**  
  
Lor kisses our little girl's forehead and then sadly hands her over to Emily. I immediately walk over to her and grab her hand. Richard walks over and takes Lor's other hand.  
  
"It's okay to cry, Lorelai" he whispers. She nods and lowers her head. I can see the tears flowing down her cheek. I kiss her on the top of her head and lean my cheek against it. Trying my hardest not to cry, I squeeze her hand and try to be there for her. After a few seconds, Richard lets go and walks away, and I wrap my arms around her. She hugs me back, and I sit on the hospital bed next to her. She rests her cheek on my shoulder.  
  
"She's not going to understand."  
  
"What?" I ask, not letting go, not even to look at her.  
  
"Our little girl. She's not going to understand why we gave her away, why we didn't keep her. Why we...why we didn't love her." Lor's voice breaks, and I can feel more tears on my shoulder.  
  
"Oh, Lor, you know that's not true."  
  
"Yes, it is! She's going to think we hated her, we couldn't stand her!"  
  
"But we didn't hate her. We loved her." I realize I'm speaking in the past tense, and correct myself. "_Love_ her. She'll always be a part of our lives."  
  
"No, she won't. She'll be a part of someone else's lives."  
  
"She could be a part of our lives, if you want her to be."  
  
"I don't want her to know about us until she's old enough to understand."  
  
"But--" I catch myself. A pregnant Lorelai Gilmore is one thing. A just-gave-her-baby-girl-away-still-drenched-in-hormones Lorelai Gilmore is completely different. "So what do you propose we do?"  
  
She shoves a huge brown envelope stuffed with crap at me, whispers instructions, pecks me on the cheek, and sends me away. I walk hesitantly out of Lor's hospital room and look around the hallway. I spot the DuGreys standing at the nurses' station with my little girl in a car seat. I stop. I take a deep breath, suck it up, and continue towards them.  
  
"Hi," I say breahtlessly, grounding to a halt in front of the small, brand-new family.  
  
"Christopher," John nods, filling out forms. Alexis actually pays attention to me, though.  
  
"Chris! What do you need?"  
  
"Lor had some last minute things she wanted to say."  
  
"I had a feeling she might. I sure wish I could meet her."  
  
"No, she doesn't want the families to have any interaction until the baby is old enough to understand."  
  
"Uh-huh," Alexis nods. "Which would be?"  
  
"Sixteen. When she's sixteen, give her this." I hand the large brown envelope to Alexis.  
  
"Oh. Oh. That's wonderful. Okay. Anything else?" Alexis finally looks back at me.  
  
"Yes. She'd appreciate if you don't talk about her. Not much. She says to keep in touch with her parents, so that you always have a way of getting in touch with her, but she says she doesn't want to hear from you for a very long time. She says to keep the baby away from any Gilmores or Haydens."  
  
"Honey, do we have a name?" John looks up from the forms. "We're actually supposed to already have one."  
  
The nurse, our wonderful target during our game of "Peg the Horrible Nurse," nods at John.  
  
"That's the other thing," I tell Alexis. "She'd like the baby to be named Lorelai. At least a middle name. She says if it's a first name, you could call her Rory."  
  
"Rory. I like it. That's the name." Alexis announces excitedly to John.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Lorelai Alexis DuGrey. It's perfect! After both of her mothers. Write it down!"  
  
John shakes his head and reluctantly writes the name on the birth certificate. Lor and I have already signed everything we needed to sign, so the DuGreys can take her home. Alexis waves as Johnathan carries little Lorelai Alexis DuGrey out of the hospital, and out of our lives. 


	2. Some Other Beginning's End

Title: Another World  
Chapter 2: Some Other Beginning's End  
  
Thanks so much to those who reviewed! It really means a lot to me!! Oh, and in the last chapter, the second time I did the "Chris" narration, when I said "he whispers," I meant Richard, not Chris. Yeah. Just clearing that up. Oh, yeah, and you soooo don't have to stay in the hospital two weeks after you give birth! You really only have to stay twenty-four hours, unless something's wrong with the baby or there's some sort of complication. The most my mom stayed in the hospital was three days, and that's just cause she was tired after giving birth for the third time. The birth certificate thing is probably right, although the doctor doesn't always put the name down right away. Yeah. That's it. I've said my spiel.  
  
Anyway, I'll probably jump around a few years in this chapter, so be prepared. You'll always understand, though, and if you don't, just review, and I'll fix it so you do understand. Yeah. So. Read on!  
  
Oh, and the title is from the Semisonic song, "Closing Time." You know, the line that goes, "every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Yeah.   
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
You know, I never actually thought I would graduate high school. It just didn't seem like something I would do. Then, of course, I got pregnant, and it looked like I _really_ wouldn't graduate high school. But now here I am, standing in line directly behind Marla Gibbs, who still is trying to convince everyone that she's related to the Bee-Gee's, even though we all know her mother changed her name from Gibblehatchens after Marla was born.  
  
As Marla's prattling on about her famous uncle Barry, I'm looking around behind me, past the G's and into the H's. Guichet, Harlow...Hayden. I smile at Chris, and give a slight wave. He smiles back, and then points to the stage. I look at the headmaster of our school and notice that Adam Gahey is receiving his diploma. That's my cue. Marla takes the stairs ahead of me and I stand at the bottom, looking at the stage. Once I travel across this stage, I'll be starting on my career path.  
  
"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore," Headmaster Williams says into the microphone. I walk up the stairs and cross to the middle of the stage where he's standing with a big ass pile of diplomas.  
  
"Thank you," I murmur to him. He just continues smiling.  
  
"I'll see you Monday," he says out of the corner of his mouth. I nod and then continue walking across the stage and down the other side. A teacher is standing at the end of the aisle, and I hand her my diploma.  
  
"Two weeks," she says excitedly. I nod.   
  
"See you Monday."  
  
She smiles and then walks to the other side of the auditorium, carrying my diploma. I stand off to the side, waiting for Chris. He finally comes down and walks over to me, grinning like a damn fool.  
  
"We did it, Lor! We're finally rid of this hellhole!"  
  
"Well, you are. I've still got two weeks of work."  
  
"What?"  
  
Hey, he's confused again! I tell you, he just does not listen! Ugh, men. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em. (Before you go into a tailspin about how wonderfully creative I am, I didn't make that up. It's from _St. Elmo's Fire_, one of those wonderful Brat Pack movies I'm sure everyone will hate in mere months. But anyway. Back to my stupid overworked boyfriend.)  
  
"Chris, remember that little incident two years ago that caused me to swell up like Violet in _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ after she eats the full-meal-in-one-stick gum?"  
  
"No..." he says slowly.   
  
"Hey, genius, remember when you knocked me up and I missed school?"  
  
"Oh! Yeah!"  
  
"Yeah. Since I missed school, I've been working frantically for six months, but I've still got two weeks left to finish, and then I get my diploma for real."  
  
"So you didn't just get it on the stage?"  
  
"No. Not for real. They just let me participate in the ceremony cause Emily and Richard flashed cash in their faces."  
  
"Oh, is that the reason you've been spending so much time at school?"  
  
"Is Straub working you extra hard at the office?" I ask, sliding one arm around Chris' waist. He's been working for his dad for about two years now, ever since I found out I was pregnant, but he's dad's planning for some big merger or some kind of crap like that, so Chris' dad is taking it out on him.   
  
"Like you would not believe! He's practically a dictator!" he responds, sliding one of his arms over my shoulder.  
  
"That's tough. What say you we go to the reception, see if anyone's spiked the punch yet?"  
  
"That's my girl." Chris kisses me on the top of my head.  
  
"Mmm, that's sweet and all, but don't ever call me your girl again," I say as we walk out of the auditorium, away from high school...for today, at least.   
  
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**Christopher Hayden**  
  
I run through the rain to a telephone booth and squeeze in. The yellow daisies in my hand are kind of limp, so I stick them in between my suitcase and wall of the booth so they stand up. I smile at them and imagine Lorelai's face as I dig through my pockets for change. Finally I pull out a quarter and stick it in the phone. I dial the most familiar number in the world to me, and a woman's voice answers.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hello, Nurse, this is Romeo. Is Juliet around?"  
  
"You know, Chris, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves," Lor's roommate scolds, but I can hear the smile in her voice.  
  
"Why, thank you, Lily. I wasn't quite sure what the outcome of Shakespeare's tragic love story was."  
  
"You're too smart for your own good."  
  
"Oh, you know I'm only smart so I can take multiple trips from Princeton to New Haven and surprise my pretty one."  
  
"'Your pretty one'? That's a new nickname."  
  
"Yeah, whaddya think of it?"  
  
"Mmm, I'd say she wouldn't like it."   
  
"She's there, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. You wanna talk to her?"  
  
"No, just tell her I'll see her in a few seconds."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm right outside your building. I'll be right up."  
  
I hang up without waiting for an answer. I take Lor's daisies and stick them in my jacket--gently, so they won't be crushed--and pick up my suitcase as I edge out of the small telephone booth. I walk quickly up the sidewalk and into the small entranceway. I look for the "Gilmore/Porter" button and press it.  
  
"Chris!" Lor says breathlessly, and I can tell she ran to the button. "You're here!"  
  
"Well, don't sound so surprised, Lor, it's your birthday."  
  
"Come up! Come up come up come up!" she yells as she's pressing the button to let me in. I push the door open and start walking up the stairs. As I reach the fourth floor landing, a streak runs toward me and knocks me into the wall.  
  
"You're the sweetest thing in the world!" Lor announces in between kissing me all over my face.  
  
"You crushed your daisies," I manage to get out as I wrangle the flowers from my jacket.  
  
"Awww. You're so sweet!" Lor continues attacking my face, so I just pick her up and start walking her to her apartment. As I make it in the door I gesture to Lily to get my suitcase. She rolls her eyes but obliges. She sets it just inside the door, grabs a jacket, and walks back out. I try to wave but really can't, because I'm only holding Lor up with one hand and she's kinda heavy, and anyway she's still practically devouring me, so I collapse on the couch and she collapses next to me. After a few more minutes, (during which I return kisses with just as much fervor)I finally separate and get her to look at me.   
  
"I've got good news. No, great news." I smile broadly at her.  
  
"You mean, more than you being here?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She suddenly sits up straight and looks directly at me, a sparkle in her eyes.  
  
"Bangles tickets!"  
  
"No, not quite."  
  
She sighs and leans back against me, only hitting me once.  
  
"What would you do if I told you I wasn't going home for summer vacation?"   
  
"I'd probably follow you home to New Jersey, hire some mobster to whack you, and then spend a happy summer away from my parents pretending to mourn you."  
  
"Fair enough. What would you do if I told you that you don't have to go home for summer vacation?"   
  
"Hmm, probably marry you," she answers almost immediately.  
  
"Well, dig out that wedding dress, cause you and I are spending the summer in New York."  
  
"No!" Lor jumps off the couch and turns to me. I stand up next to her.  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"Oh, my God! That's got to be the best news I've heard in forever!" She throws her arms around my neck again. I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her feet off the floor a few inches.   
  
"Christopher!" she squeals.   
  
"What?" I ask, all innocently. I'm good at acting innocent. Lor lifts her feet farther off the floor so I'm basically holding her up, and then she leans all her weight into me, causing me to fall backwards onto the couch. She smiles and sits up.  
  
"How is it that I always end up on top of you?" She tilts her head to the side and smiles a playful smile at me.  
  
"Because I let you," I answer, grabbing her and pulling her into a horizontal position. I pause, briefly, and smile. She smiles back. Then, just when she thinks I'm letting up, I start tickling. She screams.  
  
"Ahh! Chris!" she laughs. I just keep tickling.  
  
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**Emily Gilmore**  
  
"Here. Dust this again." I hand a porcelain figurine to Eleanor, who begins going over it with her dusting cloth, the one we paid fifty dollars for because she just "had to have it" but rarely uses it. At least, not well. And I want everything to be perfect, because Lorelai and Christopher are returning home from New York tonight, and we're throwing them a surprise engagement party. Christopher stopped by three months ago and asked Richard for Lorelai's hand in marriage. Richard said yes, of course, because Christopher is a very nice young boy, and he's recently graduated from Princeton! Of course, right away Richard asked if Christopher had a job lined up, and it turns out, he does! He starts in a week. Christopher said that he loves Lorelai very much, and he's hoping that if they get married, after a few years they can meet their daughter--who, I might add, I am still not allowed to see. Lorelai is incredibly stubborn. I have not spoken to any DuGreys in six years, except for Janlen DuGrey, who doesn't keep in touch with his grandchildren that well. He didn't even know he had a granddaughter until her first birthday. That, to me, is incredibly insensitive, but I can't say anything to him, because he certainly doesn't know that his granddaughter is actually mine, and Lorelai doesn't wish him to know.  
  
"Excuse me, Mrs. Gilmore?" The maid walks into the sitting room and disturbs my thoughts.  
  
"Yes, what is it, Eleanor?"  
  
"My name is Eliza."  
  
"That's no reason to disturb me, what's the problem?"  
  
"The caterers are here."  
  
"Oh, thank you!" I jump up and walk past her to the entranceway. "Hello," I say to the group of assorted men and women gathered in front of me. "I'm Mrs. Gilmore."  
  
"Hello, I'm Paul Jones." One white-clad man sticks his hand out for me to shake. I do so. "Where's the kitchen?"  
  
"Oh, it's right through there. Eliza will show you." I gesture to the maid, who seems surprised I got her name right. I just nod at her, and she leads the group through my house and into the kitchen. The doorbell rings again, and I answer, because I'm standing right there. To my surprise, it's not the extra servers for the party, it's one of our guests of honor--and she looks heartbroken.  
  
"Lorelai? What are you doing here?"   
  
She just shakes her head, sniffles, and throws her arms around me. I hesitantly return the hug.  
  
"Are you okay? Where's Christopher?" I look past her, out the door, but all I see is her luggage, lying on the ground.  
  
"Christopher's gone," she cries.   
  
"What? Where'd he go?"  
  
I can feel her shaking her head against my shoulder.   
  
"Did he do something to you?"  
  
There's a pause, and then I feel her nod.  
  
"What the hell did he do?" I hiss, suddenly incensed.  
  
"H-he--" she tries to talk, but she can't get all the words out for the sobs. I lead her over to the nearest seat, and settle her down on the couch, never letting my arms fully let go of her. Eliza walks into the room.  
  
"Go get her luggage, it's outside the front door."  
  
Eliza nods and walks back out of the room.  
  
"What did Christopher do?" I ask Lorelai again, softer this time.  
  
"It's not really that bad, I guess." She sniffles, and rubs the back of her hand across her nose. I roll my eyes and hand her a handkerchief. She takes it and pats her eyes dry.  
  
"Well, what was it, exactly?"  
  
"He's moving away."  
  
"What? How far?"  
  
"C-California," she finally forces out.  
  
"Oh. That's far."  
  
"No kidding," she half-laughs.   
  
"Well, did anything else happen?" I really want to know if he proposed.  
  
"Yeah. He proposed."  
  
"Oh, that's wonderful!" My face drops as I notice the look on Lorelai's face. "Isn't it?"  
  
She shakes her head. "No."   
  
"Why not? He's a wonderful young man."  
  
"Yes, but he's a wonderful young man who is moving to California. To make 'his own fortune', no less! _And_ he doesn't want me to work." She stops, and I'm about to say something when suddenly she starts back up. "Oh, and this is the clincher--he wants us to contest the DuGreys' parental rights, so we can get our daughter back, and he wants to take her with us to California--to live! He doesn't even have a job! We're not even married! There is no way that two unmarried twenty-two-year-olds with no jobs can take care of a six-year-old that has lived a wonderful life so far, with everything that she could ever want! She's got a mom, a dad, and a brother, and her dad even has a job! I told all this to Chris, but he was like, 'oh, we can work through all that. After all, we're her parents'! Yeah, we're her birth parents, but we're not her parents! We know nothing about her! We don't know her favorite foods, or her favorite movies or books, or what she likes to play with, or what her first word was. I wasn't there when she took her first step, I wasn't there when she got her first tooth, I wasn't there when she smiled the first time, I wasn't at her first birthday. The only thing I _was_ present for was her birth, and I can hardly remember that. She's lived for almost six years, and have I been there for any of it? Noooo." Lorelai shakes her head, and I can tell she's about to succumb into tears again, so I open my arms and she leans into them.  
  
"It's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."  
  
"She hates me, I just know it. She hates me for leaving her."  
  
"She doesn't hate you."  
  
"Yes, she does! And I don't want to meet her until I know that she's old enough to understand. And that's not for at least ten years. Right now, she hates me."  
  
"She doesn't--"  
  
"Yes, she does!" Lorelai interrupts me fiercely. "I know it. I can feel it in my--my heart." Her voice breaks, and she starts to cry again. I can feel tears coming to my own eyes. My only daughter is very emotionally distraught, over _her_ daughter. And now her boyfriend, the one person she has been able to count on for the past six years, has gone and acted immaturely, blinded by his own desire to be a family to see how much pain Lorelai is really in. I squeeze her tightly to me, trying to tell her that I'm there for her in not so many words. I think she can tell, because she whispers, "I love you, too."  
  
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A/N: Okay, that's it for this chapter. I'm ending on a sad note, yes, but next chapter I'm hoping to do mostly Rory/Tristan brother/sister interaction. They're both gonna be sixteen or so, I think. And no, this is _not_ a Trory, mainly because they're brother and sister. I know that Rory's adopted, and they're not genetically bro & sis, but emotionally and legally, they are, so just let it go. 


	3. Mother's Day

Title: Another World  
Chapter Three: Mother's Day  
  
Thanks to those who reviewed again! You guys are all so wonderful!!! I love reviews!!!! Okay, I'm happy now. Read on!  
  
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**Rory DuGrey**  
  
"Tristan," I whisper sing-song into my brother's room. "Tristan. Tristan!"  
  
He swats the air with one hand, groans, and rolls over. I sigh. Boys. Carefully, I step across the threshold into his room. After no alarms go off, I continue towards his bed, but once I get there, I realize I don't want to sit on the bed--I mean, who knows what eleven-year-old boys do during the night? I pause for a second, and then a thought hits me and I run back to my room. I pick up the decorative tin sitting on my desk, pour the notepads in it onto the floor, and run back into Tristan's room. I walk over the threshold and about four feet away from his bed, line myself up with his head, pull back my arm and throw.  
  
_Clunk!_  
  
I raise my arms over my head in victory. One of my better throws, I believe, and it also solicited the response I wanted. Tristan is sitting straight up in bed.  
  
"What the--?"  
  
"Shh! Come on, get up."  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Seven-thirty. Get up! Get dressed!" I whisper urgently.  
  
"I don't want to get up at seven-thirty on a Sunday." Tris groans and buries his head into his pillow again.  
  
"It's Mother's Day. We're making Mom breakfast in bed."  
  
"Make the cook do it."   
  
"Mom gave her the day off." I cross my arms across my chest and stare at the practically unmoving lump in front of me.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's Mother's Day! Now get up, get dressed, and come downstairs. If you don't get your butt in the kitchen in less than fifteen minutes, I'm telling Mom I did it all by myself, and you can kiss your home entertainment center goodbye."  
  
The unmoving lump slowly moves and sits upright, a look of horror on his face.  
  
"Exactly. See you in seconds." I turn and flounce from the room. As I reach the door I remember something and face my brother again.  
  
"Oh, yeah, and can you pick the notepads off my floor and put them in that tin and the tin back on my desk?" I ask, pointing to my decorative tin lying on the floor. He nods, slowly, the look of horror still on his face. I smile pleasantly.  
  
"That's what I thought." I make it out of the room this time, and even go all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. I'm setting out mixing bowls when I realize--I'm absolutely horrible at cooking. I mean it, I suck. Badly. Well, my wonderful idea doesn't look so good anymore.  
  
"What do I need to do?" Tristan asks, _way_ too peppily as he walks into the kitchen.  
  
"I dunno. I just realized I can't cook."  
  
Tris snorts. "You've just realized that?"  
  
"Yes," I say defensively, throwing a pot holder at him.  
  
"That didn't hurt. You're obviously losing your touch."  
  
"Oh, shut up and get out one of the pretty bowls." I've just had another wonderful idea. I point to the china cabinet for Tristan and then walk into the pantry. I grab about four boxes of cereal, a box of Pop-Tarts, bags of marshmallows and chocolate chips, and a bud vase, which is in the pantry for some strange reason. I carry my bounty back into the kitchen, only to see Tristan sitting on the counter of the island next to Mom's best crystal bowl, throwing a baseball up in the air and catching it. I walk over to him, take the crystal bowl and set it safely in the middle of the kitchen table, steal his baseball from directly in the air, and throw it at his forehead. It goes a little off-center, because I also suck at sports, and hits him on his nose. He grabs his poor appendage, and suddenly I'm seized with a picture of Marcia Brady being socked in the nose and screaming like a little girl, "Oh, my nose!"  
  
"Oh, my nose!" Tristan yells, sounding so much like the eldest daughter of Carol Brady it's scary.  
  
"Not a crystal bowl, a pretty bowl. Pretty does not mean 'the most priceless artifact in our mother's china cabinet'."  
  
"Sorry. Didn't know." Tris shrugs and grabs his baseball back, his sore nose forgotten. I sigh and roll my eyes. I exchange the priceless crystal bowl for a hand-painted porcelian one. I grab the four boxes of cereal from the counter and carry them to the island. Tristan's still sitting there. I shove him off.  
  
"Find the wicker breakfast tray. It should be in the pie safe." I instruct, pointing him to the large wooden cabinet next to the china display cabinet. He obligingly stands up from the floor and walks over to the pie safe as I open all four boxes of cereal--_Rice Krispie Treats_, _Lucky Charms_, _Rice Chex_, and _Cheerios_--and pour them into the bowl. Tristan walks back over with the tray, and I take it from him, set it on the island, and point to the box of Pop-Tarts and breadbox.  
  
"Toast and warm Pop-Tarts."  
  
"Aye-aye, captain," he sarcastically salutes me and heads to the toaster. I throw a marshmallow at him. It misses him by a mile, but as he sighs and turns away from the toaster, he steps directly on it with his bare foot. I smile at the grossed-out look on his face and continue pouring marshmallows and chocolate chips into the cereal concoction.   
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"You have to go," my best friend Andie declares into the phone.  
  
"He's going to _be_ there," I whine.  
  
"No, duh. That's why you decided to go in the first place. And stop doing that pouting thing."  
  
"I'm not doing a pouting thing," I say defensively, even as I'm bringing my face out of its pout. "And anyway, when I decided to go, it didn't seem as real. Now it seems..._really_ real."  
  
"Hey, are you sure you should be managing a hotel? Because with that power of description, you should definitely think about working for one of the better _tabloids_!" She practically yells the last word.  
  
"Oh, now, don't get too mad at me. If you're not speaking to me, you won't know half of the Lucy-like things I do, and then your stand-up act sucks. And you've got that Comedy Central thing in a week. Oh! That's another thing! I'll miss your televised special, and you promised you'd get me good seats!"  
  
"You will not miss my special, cause that's not till next Saturday, and the reunion is tomorrow."  
  
"Go with me!"  
  
"No, you're going to see your ex-boyfriend again, I will not go with you."  
  
"Awwww, Dre!" I whine again.  
  
"Stop pouting and stop calling me 'Dre'!" Andie yells. Her real name is Andrea.   
  
"But it's my nickname for you!"   
  
"I don't care! Stop pouting, don't call me Dre, keep packing--I'm picking you up in twenty minutes."   
  
"You're going with me?"  
  
"No, I'm just taking you to the--"  
  
I whimper.  
  
"Fine, I'll go." Dre sighs in defeat.  
  
"Yay!"  
  
"But you're going with me to my college reunion."  
  
"Oh, of course."  
  
"See you in twenty minutes."  
  
"Bye, Dre!"  
  
"Don't call me--!" Andie starts yelling, but I hang up on her first. I have always been incredibly talented at making people do things my way. It helps that I'm as stubborn as a mule.   
  
Andie picks me up twenty minutes later, and we ride in her bitchin' brand-new car all the way to Hartford. We pull up to my large, imposing high school about two hours later.  
  
"Hotel first?" Andie asks, unable to tear her gaze from the large building.  
  
"No, they said they'd provide accomodations."  
  
"Shit, we don't have to sleep in the school, do we?"  
  
"Calm down, it's not haunted." I say, pulling the last word out slowly so it sounds kind of spooky. Andie doesn't think it's funny, though, cause she just gives me a look.  
  
"And hey, if we do stay, at least you'll have some fresh new material." I point out in a last-ditch attempt to get her to stay. She pauses.  
  
"Fine," she exhales, opening her door with apparently a humoungous sense of dread.   
  
"It won't be that bad," I say nicely, patting her shoulder. She just makes a face. I smile at her, and then start digging through my purse for my sunglasses. Next to me, Andie's doing the same.  
  
We always put our sunglasses on at the same time. Then we start walking slowly towards our destination, shaking our heads so our hair flows out sexily. It's one of the many strange traditions that haunt our friendship. We keep trying to get rid of them, but the traditions are what started the friendship in the first place, from the first time Andie stayed in my hotel. Most of my friendships have started because of weird things like that.  
  
"Ready?" Andie asks, holding her sunglasses slightly out of her purse.  
  
"Set," I fill in, pulling my sunglasses as far out as hers.  
  
"Go," we say at the same time, flicking the glasses open and sliding them on. Well, Andie slides hers on. I falter, because when I look up I see Christopher, standing almost directly in front of me, five hundred or so feet away. He smiles, hesitantly, and waves. I don't know what to do, so I wave back--slightly, and with the hand holding my glasses. He smiles wider, and then starts walking towards me.  
  
"Hello? Earth to Gilmore!" I snap away from Chris' eyes as Andie's hand waves in front of my face.  
  
"It's him," I whisper.  
  
"What?" She looks in the same direction I do. "Oh," she says softly, her voice full of recognition.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ex-boyfriend man."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hi," Chris says, coming to a stop not four feet in front of me.  
  
"Hey." I say, still shell-shocked.  
  
"Hey," Chris turns to Andie.  
  
"Oh! Christopher Hayden, Andrea Giardino. Andie, Chris."  
  
"Hi," Andie smiles slightly as Chris shakes her hand.   
  
"You know, Andie's a stand-up comedian," I start for lack of a better conversation. "Andie Dino."  
  
"Oh, you're Andie Dino?" Chris asks, interested. Andie nods.  
  
"Yeah, that's her. She's getting famous. She's gonna have her own special on Comedy Central in about four months." Great, now I sound like I'm setting them up. 'Yeah, Chris, Andie's wonderful. She probably won't cry when you propose to her.'  
  
"Is that true?" Chris asks Andie.  
  
"Yeah, we're filming it next Saturday." Andie starts up. She's extremely proud of her comedy.  
  
"Really? I'd like to see that."  
  
"You could go with Gilmore. She's got tickets." Andie gestures to me. Oh, good, back to me. The girl who cried when he proposed. The handsomest, sexiest, most sensitive, most charming guy I've ever met. God, I'm a horrible person.  
  
"What? No, you're not," Chris protests, and I realize I've said the last part out loud.  
  
"What would make you say that?" Andie asks, concerned.  
  
"I dunno. So, Chris, what do you do now?" I ask. We start walking towards the school as we talk, and Andie stays back. She's so great sometimes.  
  
"Well, I'm working in Silicon Valley."  
  
"Have you met Bill Gates yet?"   
  
"Oh, sure, Bill and I are like this." He holds up two crossed fingers.  
  
"So you work at a small company?"  
  
"Yeah," he laughs. "You know, you're about the only person who really knows when I'm being sarcastic."  
  
"I spent too much time with you, that's all that is."  
  
"God, we haven't seen each other in how long?"  
  
"Six years. Well, a little less. You proposed in September. I remember, cause it was the month before..." I trail off, but Chris gets my train of thought.   
  
"Her sixth birthday."  
  
"Right. And now she's--"  
  
"Eleven."  
  
"Yeah. You still think about her?"  
  
"Constantly."  
  
"Have you told anyone?"  
  
"Only Bill."  
  
"Yeah, he'd be the one to tell."  
  
"Have you told anyone?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Not even Andie?"  
  
"Nope, not even Andie."  
  
"Oh."  
  
We walk on in silence for a little longer, and somehow his arm is draped across my shoulder and my arm is snaked around his waist.  
  
"You know, last Sunday was Mother's Day."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. And all day, all I could think was--'now she's making breakfast in bed. Now she's giving a card. Now she's hugging. Now she's cleaning up.' It was horrible. I couldn't concentrate at work at all."  
  
"What do you do?"  
  
"I work in a hotel. You know, one of those extra-fancy New York hotels. I also live right across the street."  
  
"Handy."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
There's more silence, and then suddenly we're sitting in the auditorium, staring at the stage. I don't know how, but my head has somehow made its way onto his shoulder. His arm is sqeezing me tight, and he kisses my hair.  
  
"It's okay to miss her," he whispers, and I nod. He's the only one who understands.   
  
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**Rory DuGrey**  
  
Today is my twelfth birthday. I am feeling contemplative, as I always do when I grow a year older. My brother is certainly not the one to go to, because besides the fact that he remains an inferior eleven for another four months, he has never been one to get contemplative. I walk from my room to downstairs, and Lupe hands me a cup of coffee before I even say anything.  
  
"Gracias," I tell her.  
  
"Oh, de nada, pequeno Rory." She smiles and pinches my cheek. I take a sip of the coffee and sit at the dining table, but I really don't think even coffee can help me with this thing I'm contemplating. I drink more coffee, so it's not quite so easy to spill, and I make my way upstairs and to my parents' room. My dad is once again away on business, but my mom is laying in bed, still in her outfit from D.A.R., reading a book.   
  
"Mom?" I ask before heading into her room uninvited.  
  
"Hey, birthday girl!" She smiles and sets her book down on her bedside table. "Come here." I run into her room, carefully hand her my almost empty coffee cup, and then bounce happily onto her fluffy bed.  
  
"That's fun," I announce, as soon as I've stopped bouncing.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Isn't it?"   
  
"Yeah." I nod and then lean back into her arm. She pulls me to her and squeezes happily.  
  
"Did you have a good birthday?"  
  
"Oh, yeah! It was great! Thanks for everything."  
  
"You're welcome. Sorry your party has to wait."  
  
"That's okay." I just sit there quietly for a while, thinking. After a while I think Mom gets a little worried.  
  
"What's on your mind _this_ birthday?"  
  
"Oh, well, it's something I need your help with."  
  
"Oh, sure, anything."  
  
"Okay. Great. It's a question I need to ask you."  
  
"Sure, sweetie. What is it?"  
  
"Can you tell me about my birth mom?"  
  
"Oh." She gets really quiet for a minute, and then repeats the word. "Oh."  
  
"It's okay if you don't want to answer. I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry." I start to sit up, but Mom just keeps her grip on my arm.  
  
"It's okay, Rory. I can tell you a few things."  
  
"Okay. Like what?" I ask, laying back down and snuggling into her.  
  
"Okay, well, your mom's name was Lorelai. That's where your first name came from. She even suggested that we call you Rory."  
  
I already knew that. "Why'd she give me up?"   
  
"She was only sixteen when she had you. She still wanted to go to college, like you've been wanting to do since forever, and she didn't think she could go with a baby. I think her parents kind of made her give you up, too."  
  
This was new. She was only sixteen?  
  
"She really loved you, though. She had a really hard time giving you up."  
  
Why'd she do it then? Why?  
  
"She was very pretty, too. You have her hair, and her eyes. Her beautiful eyes." Mom looks into my face as she says this, and smiles. "You're very pretty, you know."  
  
"You're pretty, too," I hug her around the stomach.  
  
"Oh, thank you, sweetie. But it's true. You look a whole lot like your birth mother. That's why you're so stunning. I bet in another couple of years, boys will be knocking our door down. And some girls, too, for Tristan." She adds after a second.  
  
"Who would want to go out with Tris? He's ugly and stupid," I say. Mom laughs.  
  
"Maybe to you, but to some girls he'll be very handsome. You know, he looks a lot like his dad, although he does have my chin." She rubs her hand over her chin, and for some reason that makes us both laugh.  
  
"I love you," I say, hugging her again.  
  
"Oh, I love you, too. You're one of the most loved girls in the world," she says softer, thinking I don't hear. But I do. I hear every word.  
  
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Okay, practically everyone has asked me about pairings. Here's my idea: Rory and Tristan will not get together. EVER. They are brother and sister. Sorry. I cannot decide whether Rory will make it to Stars Hollow and meet a certain floppy-haired fellow or not, but I do know that she meets a certain literary guy in NYC, but that's a while from now. Lorelai and Christopher will probably eventually get together, but we know for a fact that she will not get together with Luke--so sorry to all the JavaJunkies, but there's just no possibility. Wait--or is there? Okay, I just got an idea, and that might bring Luke into the picture! Ooh! This is good! Okay, well, I have a few people I'll run the idea by first, but you'll see whether or not it happens later! Ooh! This is exciting! Okay, so it's three in the morning, and I should probably get sleep, so I'm gonna go.   
  
Ooh, and if anyone wanted to be nice and help with me a new name for this story, my e-mail address is sami57peace2u@hotmail.com. Yeah. Okay, hope you review! Oh, yeah, and hope you liked it. 


	4. Royal Chiltonites

Title: Another World  
Chapter 4: Royal Chiltonites  
  
Hey. Thanks for reviewing, everyone. Please tell me if the title of the story sucks, cause personally I think it does, I just don't know what to call it.  
  
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**Chilton Freshman #1  
Louise Grant**  
  
For once in my life, I am looking forward to Christmas vacation ending so I can go back to school. Me. Louise Grant. I have never ever wanted to go to school in my whole entire fifteen years! But now, things are looking up. You wanna know why that is? I'll tell you.  
  
_Rory DuGrey._  
  
I don't know how, but she is the most popular freshman at Chilton, and not only that, but she's famous among the upperclassmen too. I mean, _upperclassmen_. That's like, seniors and crap. They're practically in _college_, and they all know who Rory DuGrey is. Not only that, they know who I am, because I'm in her group. Of course, I've been in her group since pre-K. We all have. Who's we?   
  
Well, there's me, Rory, Madeline Lynn, and Paris Gellar. I'm the makeup obsessed girly-girl who's been dating for...well, forever. Madeline's the dumb blonde. She's not blonde, she just acts like it. Actually, I'm the blonde, I just don't act like it. Well, whatever--Madeline's the clueless one, and that's all there is to it. Paris is, like, OCD when it comes to school. I mean it, she really has apparently no life. She spends all of her time competing with Rory for the top academic spot at school, and it's really not easy for her, but she's okay with that, because somehow, that stupid competitive attitude works for both of them. I know I could never handle that. I mean, if I was going for something I really liked--say, a date with the hottest guy in the freshman class, Tristan DuGrey--and someone came in between me and my prize? Girl's going _down_ if she comes between me and my guy.  
  
Like I'd ever go out with Tristan. Actually, you know, he's really cute. But still, he's Rory's brother. Rory's _younger_ brother. He's fourteen till Febuary 1, you know. Yeah, he's younger--but my mom's having an affair with a younger guy. Although, you know, her younger guy is my dad's twenty-two-year-old assistant, but still.  
  
Oh, wait! You're not supposed to know that.  
  
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**Chilton Freshman #2  
Madeline Lynn**  
  
I really should stop drinking cappucinos before school because they always put me on edge. Then again, it's the first Monday back to school after Christmas break, and I am way off schedule, so basically I need the caffiene to wake me up. But I guess I could always wait till I get to school, because Paris is bound to yell at me before first period, and that always wakes me up.   
  
Whatever. I've just had about fourteen cappucinos, and now I'm all on edge and jumpy, and that's going to make this an absolutely pleasant day, I'm sure.  
  
Well, hey, at least I spent the weekend in New York. I got a makeover at Sephora and my mom took me on a shopping spree through Macy's, Saks Fifth Avenue, Barney's, and about a zillion other stores. Of course, yesterday when I took a shower all the makeup washed off, and this morning I could not figure out how to do it again. And I can't wear anything I bought on my shopping spree, because stupid Chilton makes us wear uniforms. Oh, except for this fabulous new barette clip thingy. I've got it in my hair right now, and I'm sure it's gonna be the first thing Louise notices about me and the first thing Paris yells at me about.  
  
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**Chilton Freshman #3  
Paris Gellar**  
  
Yes! Finally, back to school. For such an academic minded school, Chilton is ridiculously lax about vacation. I mean, we were off for two weeks! The week including Christmas, and then the week including New Year's. I mean, yes, they are both holidays, and the only places really open on Christmas and New Year's are Wal-Mart, Blockbuster and Waffle House, but we lost a whole week in between those two days alone! And besides, I'm Jewish. I don't even _celebrate_ Christmas, yet I got it off? How weird is that? I'm going to have to talk to Headmaster Charleston about this.  
  
I'm at school early again, of course. Hardly anyone is here. I walk to the headmaster's office, but his secretary informs me he is not in yet. That is incredibly irresponsible. I walk back out of his office--huffily, I think is the best word to describe it--and into the hallway. Still, there's no one here. School starts in less than one hour! Do none of these people care?  
  
"I don't want to be here!" a male voice whines around the corner. A very familiar male voice.  
  
"Shut up and keep walking," an equally familiar female voice says harshly. I smile and wait for my best friend to round the corner.  
  
"Mary, come on. The only people here this early are freaks and geeks."  
  
"Shut _up_! And stop using random TV show titles in everday conversation."  
  
"What? It's my trademark."  
  
Rory sighs and turns the corner. She catches my eye and grins.  
  
"Paris!" she squeals, running to meet me. "I feel like I haven't seen you in _forever_."  
  
"I spent the night at your house Friday."  
  
"Well, yeah, but you weren't wearing your uniform," she points out, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"Have you had your coffee yet?"  
  
"Two cups," Tristan mutters as he walks past us to his locker.  
  
"Oh, no wonder you're off. You've only had two cups of coffee."  
  
"Exactly. Wanna go around the corner with me?"  
  
"Around the corner?" I ask, thinking it over. Around the corner from Chilton is a little cafe Rory likes to go to because that's where the coffee is. But school's supposed to start in less than fifty minutes, and I don't want to be late.   
  
Rory can see the indecision on my face, because she says, "Don't worry, we'll be back in twenty minutes tops. Besides, I told Louise and Madeline to meet us there, and I want to see how long it takes them to show up."  
  
"Okay," I say reluctantly. She smiles.  
  
"Good. Let's go." She hooks one of her arms into the elbow of mine and we start walking out of the building. I can hear Tristan faintly in the background.  
  
"Hey, what about Tristan?"  
  
"Aw, forget about Tris. He'll just have to spend twenty minutes in school, all alone, save a few freaks, geeks, and teachers."  
  
"Do you think I'm a freak?"  
  
"Paris, everyone's a freak in their own way. You're just uber-obsessed with school and making it into a good college. Trust me, that's a good thing."  
  
"How are you a freak?"  
  
"Oh, me? I worship coffee, movies, and junk food, while still enjoying a few healthy foods and some classic books."  
  
"Ah. How do you do that?"  
  
"Practice. Lots of practice."  
  
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**Chilton Freshman #4  
Nathaniel Collum**  
  
Today is my first day at my new school. Chilton. My mom dropped me off twenty minutes ago, and I went to the administrative office and everything. Now I'm just wandering around this large, intimidating school. I turn a corner and run smack dab into a blonde, blue-eyed guy who's a little bit taller than me and apparently the king of all he sees, like Yertle the Turtle in that Dr. Seuss story.  
  
"In my way, man. That's so not cool." The guy shoots me a look like "hey, stay away! I'm king, you're jester--got it?" I gulp and nod. He does one of those wink/finger gun/tongue clicky things and walks off down the hallway. I turn and walk the opposite way.  
  
"Hey. Hey!"  
  
I turn around and notice this dorky looking guy with glasses standing off to the side.  
  
"You're new, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," I say. Great, now I've talked to the dork, and I'll never get popular. I'm guessing the tall blonde was the popular guy.  
  
"Need a guide?"  
  
"Sure," I say, resigned to my fate. You know, I was the cool guy in my old school. Oh, those days are over now.  
  
"Okay, first of all you need to know who to stay away from."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"That guy you ran into? He's the king of the freshman class."  
  
"Figured as much."  
  
"Tristan DuGrey. His sister's Rory DuGrey. She's beautiful--long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, _great_ body--the whole nine yards."  
  
"Great?" I ask, unsure of what to say to that.  
  
"Yeah, it's great. But stay away from her, or else Tristan'll kill you. He's overly protective of his sister, even though he's younger than her."  
  
"So Rory's an upperclassman?"  
  
"Oh, no, she's a freshman, she's just a couple months older than Tristan."  
  
That makes no sense. "How?"  
  
"She's adopted."  
  
"Oh, okay. See, that makes sense."  
  
"Yeah, sorry. Should have said that first."  
  
"Anything else I need to know?" We've arrived at my locker, and I open it. Or at least, try to.  
  
"Uh, Rory's best friends with a group of girls. Paris Gellar, Louise Grant, and Madeline Lynn."  
  
"Madeline Lynn? That's a weird name." I grunt, pulling the locker door with all my might.  
  
"No kidding. Oh, and Tristan will refer to Rory as 'Mary', but as of yet, she won't let anyone else get away with it."  
  
"Why Mary?"  
  
"When he was little, he couldn't pronounce Rory, so he called her Mary."  
  
"And he still does it?"  
  
"Yeah. It's just a habit now, I guess."  
  
"Hey, can you help me with my locker? Please?"  
  
"Sure." The guy pulls effortlessly on my locker door and it springs open at his touch.   
  
"Wow. How'd you do that?" I ask, looking inside my empty locker.  
  
"Practice."  
  
"Oh. So who does Tristan hang around with?" I've found a note in my locker, and I decide to open it and read it.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said Rory hung around with those three girls, and I was wondering who Tristan hung around with."  
  
"Uh, let's see. There's Josh, Cary, Mike."  
  
"Cary?"  
  
"As in Grant."  
  
"Ohh. So is that it?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess. And, of course, whoever the girls are going out with at the time."  
  
"So they all just hang in a big group?"  
  
"Usually."  
  
"Oh. Hey, this note says something about 'Gay Ray'? Who's that?"  
  
"Oh, that's me," the guy says flippantly.  
  
"Huh. Well, I'll see you later, G--" I have to catch myself. "Ray. Ray." I nod slightly, turn around calmly, and walk away as quickly as I can.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Chilton Freshman #5  
Rory DuGrey**  
  
"Is anyone sitting here?"  
  
I look up to see who's disturbing my after school/reading time only to see this devestatingly handsome guy dressed in a Chilton uniform. He's about my height--5'8" or so. He's got fabulous green eyes and the most killer crooked smile.  
  
"No." I answer his question almost breathlessly. God, he's cute.  
  
"Care if I sit?"  
  
"No," I say again. He smiles again and sits down. I clear some of my books from the small table and stick them back in my bookbag.  
  
"What are you drinking?" He gestures to my large bowl-like cup.  
  
"Oh, it's just coffee. I'm slightly addicted."  
  
"Just coffee? No weird, Italian-like name, such as frappacino, or cappucino?"  
  
"Nope, just coffee."  
  
"Finally, someone who understands the mystique and joy of wonderful simple coffee."  
  
"Very strong coffee." I agree, nodding my head empatically. He laughs.  
  
"Yes, very strong coffee."  
  
He smiles, and I smile back, but eventually my eyes stray back to my book.   
  
"Not to be nosy, but what are you reading?"  
  
"Ariel. It's a book of poems by Sylvia Plath."  
  
"'The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in. I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.'" He recites the poem effortlessly, as if it's been lying on the tip of his tongue for days, just waiting to roll off.   
  
"Impressive. But do you know what poem that is?"  
  
"Tulips. Page 10."  
  
I turn back to the table of contents, and sure enough, he's right.  
  
"Do you always memorize what page the poems are on?"  
  
"Not always. I've just always liked that poem."  
  
That's so cool! Some guy likes a Sylvia Plath poem. "Me, too." I smile at him, and it's definitely not a flirty smile. It's a pleased smile.  
  
"Nathaniel Collum," he announces, holding out his hand. "Freshman, and new to Chilton."  
  
"Rory DuGrey," I tell him, shaking his hand. "Freshman also."  
  
"Rory. That's an interesting name."  
  
"It's short for Lorelai."  
  
"That's also an interesting name."  
  
"Yeah. It was my mom's." I pause for a second, and think about the fact that I share a name and genes with someone I've never met. Then I look back into Nathaniel's eyes. "So, you're new to Chilton. Where are you from?"  
  
"Atlanta."  
  
"That's interesting. You don't have an accent."  
  
"Yeah. Not everyone down there has an accent. As a matter of fact, I only know a few people who do. Although it really depends on where you go."  
  
"Oh. Do you say y'all?"  
  
"Sometimes, if I'm not careful."  
  
"Well, _then_ do you have an accent?"  
  
He laughs. "I dunno. You'll have to catch me at that sometime."  
  
"Okay, I will." I smile at him, and he smiles back. Then I look away and take a sip of my coffee, before I get too goofy. 


	5. Boyfriends

Title: Another World  
Chapter 5: Boyfriends  
  
Thanks to my reviewers! As always, you guys ultimately rock!!! Whoo! Rock on!!! Sorry...weirding myself out, now.  
  
Oh, yeah, and this picks up the same day of the last chapter, just later.   
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Paris Gellar**  
  
"So he just sat down and started talking to you?"  
  
Rory bites her lip in excitement and nods. "Yeah, something like that. But it was so great! He likes coffee--just coffee, none of this fancy names crap--and he recited part of a Sylvia Plath poem to me, and he's from Atlanta, but it doesn't really sound like it. I mean, he doesn't have the accent or anything, but he says that sometimes he says 'y'all' and when he said that I asked if he had the accent when he said 'y'all' and he laughed and said he didn't know, I'd have to catch him at it sometime." Rory says all of this in one breath, and at the last word she lets out an excited squeal and collapses onto her bed.  
  
"You really like this guy, huh?" I ask from my spot in her armchair.  
  
"Yeah. I really do." She rolls over so she's facing me and then props her head up on one hand. "He asked me to go out with him."  
  
"Where?" I have to admit, I'm getting a little excited. Rory's been on dates before, but she's never been like this.  
  
"He said he knows this great little town where we can just walk around for hours."  
  
"A walking date?" I screw up my face in thought. "You know, if Louise was here, she'd be able to tell you what that meant."  
  
"Yeah, she'd be the one to ask. I guess I will, later. I just had to tell you first."  
  
I smile. It's so cool that I've got a best friend who shares stuff with me first.  
  
"Hey, we're supposed to be studying, and I left my books downstairs." Rory laughs. "I'm a little preoccupied."  
  
"I can tell."  
  
"Wait right here, I'll go get them."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"And some brain food." She waggles her eyebrows at me and leaves. I lean back in her armchair. I've got a crush on a guy, too, just like Rory's got a crush on this Nathaniel guy, only I haven't told her about my crush, because I don't think she'd understand. Speaking of my crush...  
  
"Paris, Paris, Paris," Tristan walks into Rory's bedroom, shaking his head as he says my name. "Still working as hard as ever?"  
  
"Uh-huh," I nod, my head down. I'm pretending to be foused on my book, not...how insanely close Tristan is. Because he's insanely close. He's right there. Right next to me. And I'm not at all like--well, any of the girls I hang out with. When I'm close to a guy I like, I can't flirt or anything, I just get all flustered.  
  
"Hey, is your hair shorter?" He pulls Rory's desk chair from its spot at her desk, swings it around, and straddles it.  
  
"Yeah, a quarter of an inch." My hand flies to my hair and I start nervously twirling a strand around my finger.  
  
"Really."  
  
"Yeah, I got it trimmed." I've just realized I'm twirling a strand of hair around my finger. I abruptly drop my hand and slap my leg. Hard. I wince. Tristan doesn't notice, though. Luckily.  
  
"Looks good," he says, still talking about my hair. I smile at him.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He smiles back and opens his mouth to say something, but Rory walks back into the room, carrying her books, a bowl of popcorn, and bags of candy.  
  
"Tris, stop annoying Paris," she says almost reflexively, in that special annoyed voice she always reserves for her brother.  
  
"Oh, no, he's not annoying me."  
  
"He's not?" Rory looks at me, completely confused.  
  
"No." I shake my head and kind of smile at Tristan. He kind of smiles back at me.  
  
"I gotta get going, anyway. I got a date." He grins suggestively and stands up.  
  
"Oh, who with this time? Trixie? Bambi?" Rory asks sarcastically.  
  
"No. Angela."  
  
"Whatever, twerp. Just get out of my room."  
  
He salutes her, winks at me, and leaves. Rory sighs.  
  
"God, he's just so exasperating!" She sets the bowl of popcorn on her desk and throws her books and the candy on her bed. Then she turns and notices her desk chair in the middle of the room, where Tristan left it.  
  
"Tristan! Get your sorry little ass back in here! Tristan!"  
  
"God, Mary, what is it?" Tristan stalks back into the room, this time wearing a jacket and twirling a key ring on his finger.   
  
"How many times have I told you not to touch my stuff? And if you do, at least put it back in the place you found it so it doesn't _look_ like you touched my stuff."  
  
"What? I was in a hurry. Angela's waiting."  
  
Rory grabbed the key ring from his finger in mid-twirl. "You're fourteen, idiot."  
  
"It's my house key," Tristan retaliates, snatching it back.  
  
"Whatever. Just--no driving."  
  
"I'm not stupid, Mare."  
  
"What do you mean, you're not stupid? Wasn't it just a week ago you got pulled over for joyriding?"  
  
"Oh." Tristan reddens slightly.  
  
"Exactly." Rory grabs the key back. "When you get home, ring the doorbell. I'll be downstairs, I promise. And you need to be home by ten. We have school tomorrow."  
  
"What are you, my mom?"  
  
"No, but she's out of town, and she told me to keep an eye on you, so I am. Now get out of here. I'm sure Angela's waiting."  
  
Tristan makes a face, but turns and heads down the stairs.  
  
"I can't stand him sometimes, you know?" Rory asks, settling cross-legged on her bed. I stay silent, thinking over my answer, and she looks up and notices my face. "Or _do_ you?"  
  
I don't know what I'm doing. My mouth is open, as if I want to say something, but I don't have anything to say. I shrug.  
  
"Paris, d-do you like Tristan?"  
  
I sigh, resigned. If she hates me for this--oh well. I nod.  
  
"You do? Wow. Uh, you want me to set you up?"  
  
"Oh, I don't think so." I turn back to my book, and, taking the hint, Rory turns back to hers. I can't concentrate, though. "Hey, Rory?"  
  
"Yeah?" Rory asks, looking up into my eyes.  
  
"Can you set me up with your brother?"  
  
She grins. "Sure."  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Nathaniel Collum**  
  
So it's Friday afternoon, and I'm sitting in a small cafe around the corner from my school, waiting for a girl. I've actually only known this girl for a week, yet she's a pretty big part of my life already. And she's really special. And sweet. And smart. And _beautiful_. She could ask me to do anything, anything at all, and I would--I really would. She's that wonderful. I take a sip of my coffee and turn the page of the book I'm reading. The bell over the door jingles and I look up for about the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. I'm greeted by Rory DuGrey's smiling face.  
  
"Hey," she greets, walking over to what I've come to know as 'our' table. "Sorry I'm late. Madeline had an...emergency."  
  
"Girl stuff." I guess.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Ah. Well, that's okay. We don't have a deadline, or anything."  
  
"I have to be at my house at midnight."  
  
"Well, then, we do have a deadline. But don't worry, we won't miss it."  
  
"Okay. I'm gonna go get some coffee." She starts to get up, but I stop her.  
  
"Let me get it."  
  
"No, you're paying for everything tonight. I'll get my own coffee." She smiles. "I'm as stubborn as an ass, so just let it go. You do get to treat me tonight, though."  
  
"Okay." I settle back into my seat, and she grins and then walks off. God, she's beautiful. Even in that horrible ensemble of clothes Chilton calls a uniform. I stop watching as she stands in line, and instead turn back to my book. I'm not far from the end, and it's getting pretty good. After a few minutes Rory comes back to the table and sits down.  
  
"Mmm, what are you reading?" she asks in between sips of coffee.  
  
"A book."  
  
"How novel. Which book?"  
  
"This one."  
  
"Nathaniel," she says, sing-song, and I sigh. I can't say no.  
  
"Alright, I'll tell you."  
  
"Yay!"  
  
"But don't judge me by this."  
  
"Oh, never," she says mock-seriously, crossing her heart.  
  
I lift the book from the table so she can see the cover.  
  
"Where The Heart Is?" she asks, incredulously.  
  
"It's my sister's."  
  
"Oh. Do you think I could borrow it after you're done?"  
  
"Sure," I smile. She smiles back, and then sets her large bowl-like coffee cup on the table.  
  
"Ready to go," she announces. I look at her through my lashes, not lifting my head up.  
  
"You're gonna wear your uniform?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Louise gave me clothes--I'll go change."  
  
"Super."  
  
She stands up, holding her backpack. As she walks past me to the bathroom, she swats the back of my head. I turn to look at her, and she's walking backwards, a teasing smile on her face.  
  
"Mr. Super Sarcastic gets a swat on the head. He best watch out for next time." She shakes her head slowly and then turns and walks off. I watch her till she turns the corner. Boy, she can always keep me interested.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
Okay, the outfit Louise lent me is relatively normal, for her. Normal jeans--just very sparkly--and a sparkly peasant top. By the time I'm finished changing, there's about a pound of glitter on the bathroom floor and my Chilton uniform, which I just stuff into my backpack haphazardly. I walk out of the stall and over to the sinks. I pull out the make-up bag Madeline lent me, pick out a few pretty neutral items, and apply them. I'm done in five minutes. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, like what I see, and head back to the table where my blonde, green-eyed, almost boyfriend is sitting. He looks up as I sit down, and smiles at me.  
  
"Now are you ready to go?"  
  
"Yes." I stand up and slip my backpack on, pick up my purse, and reach for my other two books.   
  
"Let me," Nathaniel reaches over and picks up my books, settling them on top of his own stack.  
  
"Hmm, you're Super-Boy. You carry my books, don't mind when I'm late, dress impeccably." I gesture to his outfit with a wave of my hand. "Is there anything you don't do?"  
  
He thinks it over. "Fly," he says as he leads me out of the cafe. "But I'm working on it."  
  
"Good. I don't think I could have a boyfriend who didn't fly," I say teasingly. He stops walking and looks at me strangely. I suddenly realize what I said, and freeze.   
  
"Did you just call me your boyfriend?"  
  
"Uh...no?"  
  
"Yes, you did." He turns away from me and starts walking again, his hand still on my back, leading me. "You called me your boyfriend."  
  
"Well, I guess I did. Is that a bad thing?"  
  
"No. No, I don't think so."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, really. Who wouldn't want to be your boyfriend?"  
  
"Well. Thanks for the compliment."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
We walk on in silence for a little while, but finally I can't stand it. "Where are we going?"  
  
"I told you. A little town I know of."  
  
"How are we going to get there?"  
  
"If you don't mind, bus."  
  
"Bus? No, I don't mind bus."  
  
"Good. That's what I thought."  
  
"So tell me about this town."  
  
He laughs. "I told you, it's a surprise! You'll see when we get there."  
  
"Oh, come on. I'm naturally impatient, you know. All the caffiene."  
  
"I don't care, you still have to wait."  
  
"You're a mean boyfriend." I pout.  
  
"It's all the angst from not being able to fly."  
  
I laugh. Nathaniel's so great. He can even keep up with me verbally--I've been waiting for that forever!  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
I swear, my life is so structured, it's scary.  
  
I _never_ wanted a structured life, and now here I am, this victim of a horrible pattern. I do everything the same every day. _Everything_. Literally. It's very, very scary.  
  
I wake up. I take a shower. I blow-dry. I get dressed--always in this business-like suit. I grab a few cups of coffee from the coffee shop on the first floor of my building. I walk across the street to my hotel. I clock in. I check out whatever I think needs checking out that day. I take care of priority guests. I buy a magazine from the shop in the lobby. (Always a magazine, never a newspaper, because the ink on a newspaper always gets all over my hands. I usually end up having more than one copy of a magazine by the end of a month.) I continue walking around the hotel, insuring things are running smoothly. I check on the chef for the lunch and dinner menu for that day and the breakfast menu for the next morning. I field a few of the calls from the more high-profile clients. I walk up and down every hallway, making sure the maids are doing their job. I check on conference rooms with big parties. I make sure the night desk clerk comes in on time, and then I leave. I grab dinner from one of the restaurants on the block--usually pizza or deli. I take it home, where I change into pajamas and watch TV, making special care to watch something one of the actors' staying in the hotel has been in. I wait for my nightly phone call, and when it finally comes, I talk for at least an hour. Then we spend twenty minutes complaining how much this is costing us, and finally I hang up. I smile goofily for half-an-hour, tidy up, then go to bed.  
  
That's my day. It's utterly boring. I want to do something to shake it up, but I'm preparing for something, so I can't shake structure too much.  
  
The phone rings.  
  
I spring up from my spot on the couch and run to the kitchen for the phone.  
  
"Hello?" I ask, breathlessly.  
  
"So thrilled to hear from me, Lor?" I can hear the smile in Chris' voice from here. And he's all the way in California!  
  
"Hmm, that's what you think."  
  
"How was your day?"  
  
"Boring, I've just realized."  
  
"Well, maybe you just need a cat."  
  
"I resent that! But, anyway, how was your day?"  
  
"I've decided I'm boring too."  
  
"Oh, well I've always known that," I settle back onto the couch.  
  
"Since I'm so boring," Chris goes on, as if he hasn't heard me, "I've decided to take a risk."  
  
"Ooh, what kind of risk? An interesting risk? Can I do it, too? Is it a tattoo? Cause I've always wanted one of those."  
  
"No, you don't, 'Lornelai,' " Chris answers my last question with the name that's on his misspelled tattoo.  
  
"Oh, my God, I forgot about that! Wasn't that guy drunk when he did that?"  
  
"I think so. And half-blind, too."   
  
"A perfect combination." I laugh. "That was the best spring break I have ever had."  
  
"Me, too." Chris says as wistfully as I did. We spend a pleasant thirty seconds doused in nostalgia, but finally my curiosity gets the better of me.  
  
"So, what's the risk?"  
  
"Oh, I'm expanding my company."  
  
"Ohhhhh. That sounds _so_ boring."  
  
"Wait, you haven't heard where." He's got a smile in his voice again.  
  
"Mazatlan?" I guess. Mazatlan's where we spent the spring break with the misspelled tattoo.  
  
Chris laughs. "No, New York."  
  
"Oh, New York. That sounds cool." I say immediately. Then what he said actually hits me. "Wait, New York?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"New York _City_?" I ask semi-frantically. He laughs again.  
  
"Yes, New York City."  
  
"Where I am?"  
  
"Yes, where you are right now."  
  
"Oh, my God! Are you telling me--are you telling me you're moving here?"  
  
"Well, yeah. I've got a great guy who can run everything out here, and I of course need to be near my new branch when it opens."  
  
"Well...yeah! So, you're moving here? With me?"  
  
"If you'll let me."  
  
"God, I haven't seen you since the reunion."  
  
"I know."  
  
"We've only talked."  
  
"I know."  
  
"This is huge."  
  
"I know." He's got a grin in his voice now.  
  
"You know an awful lot."  
  
"Part of my job. So...will you let me move in with you?"  
  
"God, are you kidding? If you don't, you're dead!"  
  
"Great."  
  
"Great." I have a huge grin on my face, too, and probably in my voice.  
  
"I love you, Lor."  
  
"I love you, too, Chris." 


	6. The End Of The Middle

Title: Another World  
Chapter 6: The End Of The Middle  
  
Once again, thanks to my reviewers. All three of you!  
  
Oh, yeah, and I don't own Gilmore Girls. I always forget to say that.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
"Are we there yet?" I ask for the twentieth time as the bus slows to a stop. To my surprise, Nathaniel nods.  
  
"Yep. This is it. Stars Hollow," he announces in a dramatic voice as we step off the bus.   
  
"It's nice," I say. "Quaint."  
  
"Really?" he asks, and it sounds like he's desperate for approval.  
  
"Really," I reassure him, turning around to smile at him. I grab the lapels of his jacket and pull, so we get moving.  
  
"So you know this place because--"  
  
"My great-aunt lives here," he reminds me, "and since we moved to Hartford, we've been visiting a lot."  
  
"Ah. So you've gotten to know quaint little Stars Hollow in a little over a week?"  
  
"My great-aunt's lived here for forever, and we've visited a lot." He smiles.  
  
"Okay. So, show me around."  
  
"Well, first, we're heading to get a staple of life."  
  
"Coffee!" I gasp.  
  
"It's been over thirty minutes. You must be almost mellowed-out by now."  
  
"Stop teasing. And, yeah."  
  
He laughs and starts leading me through the town, holding my hand. I look down in surprise. When did that happen? But it's okay--I like it.  
  
"Here we are," he proclaims as we stop across the street from a store bearing the name "Williams Hardware."  
  
"Funny. Very funny. But where's the coffee place?"  
  
"This is it. Luke's."  
  
"It says 'Williams Hardware'," I point out.  
  
"It used to be a hardware store, but after Luke's dad died, he changed it into a diner."  
  
"Oh. So there's coffee?"  
  
"Of course. And it's the best coffee you've ever had."  
  
"Oh, I will _so_ be the judge of that." I smile at him, and he smiles back, pushing the door of the diner open. The bells over the door jingle as we walk up to the counter and sit on two unoccupied stools.  
  
"Hey, Nathaniel. Whaddya want?"  
  
"Two coffees."  
  
The guy taking our order finally looks up and notices me, attached to Nathaniel's hand. "Who's your friend?" he asks.  
  
"Rory DuGrey," I announce, holding my hand out.  
  
"Welcome, Rory. I'm Luke Danes. This is my diner."  
  
"Best coffee in town," Nathaniel grins next to me.  
  
Luke adjusts his backwards baseball cap and frowns. "Too much coffee'll stunt your growth."  
  
"Hey, I'm already short. I'm used to it." Nathaniel shoots back.  
  
"You're not short," I defend Nathaniel, but he just shakes his head and continues arguing with Luke.  
  
"You'll slump over dead from a heart attack at the age of 40."  
  
"I'll get over it."  
  
The two men--boys, really, judging from the way they were acting--stared at each other for a minute, until finally breaking out into grins.  
  
"It's great to see you again," Luke says, pouring coffee into large bowl-shaped cups, just the way I like it. "You're practically a member of the town."  
  
"Yeah, only a few more tests from Taylor, and I will be an official citizen."  
  
Both guys laugh while I am left hopelessly in the dust. But not for long, cause Luke places a bowl of coffee in front of me along with a chocolate and sprinkle covered doughnut.  
  
"What's this for?" I ask, confused.  
  
"You were staring at it."  
  
Oh. I realize with a jolt that I actually was. Luke just smiles and says, "On the house."  
  
Nathaniel looks like he's gonna argue again, so I just hold up a hand to stop it. He does. God, that's cool.  
  
"My handsome nephew has deigned to visit his lonely aunt!" A woman's voice sounds from behind us, along with the tell-tale jingles of the bells above the door. Nathaniel and I both turn around to see a large woman dressed in a bright red dress and waving a long-handled cigarrete holder around.  
  
"Hey, Aunt Patty," Nathaniel says, walking over to the woman and hugging her.  
  
Luke raises his eyes at me from behind the counter. "Patty, I didn't know you could be lonely. Wasn't there a Jesus at the town meeting last week?"  
  
I laugh as Patty turns red and Nathaniel just stares.  
  
"Oh, Luke, I didn't want the boy to know that!" Patty hisses, holding her hands over her nephew's ears.  
  
Luke just shakes his head and pours me some coffee.  
  
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" I ask, sidling up to the two, my coffee cup in my hand.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Aunt Patty, this is Rory DuGrey, my girlfriend. Rory, my aunt, Pa--"  
  
"Patricia LaCosta," she interrupts, holding a hand out to me. "Local dance-teacher--"  
  
"And gossiper."  
  
"Extraordinaire." Patty glares at Nathaniel, who smiles back.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"Dinner!" Chris calls as he walks into our apartment. God. I love saying that. Our apartment. _Our_ apartment. Our _apartment_. Eee, it's so cool.  
  
"Entertainment!" I call back, grabbing the DVDs I rented earlier and walking into the living room.  
  
"Oh, that's the entertainment. I thought we were gonna watch movies," Chris waggles his eyebrows suggestively at my robe. I walk over to him and slap him playfully on the shoulder as I slide my arms around his neck.  
  
"We _are_ watching movies."  
  
"I know. But maybe we can do a little of the other entertainment, too?" He sounds like a little boy, pleading with his eyes as he grabs me around the waist.  
  
"Maybe later." I lean in and we meet at the lips, for tonight's first kiss, the first of many. God, it's fabulous having a live-in boyfriend. "How was work?"  
  
Chris groans slightly as I walk away from him, into the kitchen, setting plates out for dinner. "Good. Didn't spend too much money."  
  
"That's good," I comment, dishing ridiculous amounts of Chinese food onto each of our plates. "Or is it?" I pause and look up. I still haven't gotten the hang of what's good and what's not in Chris' job, which is...something. Internet communications or something.  
  
"Uh, it's good. Not spending too much money is always good. How 'bout you? Anyone famous check in?"  
  
"Oh, uh-huh, Lee Majors." I pick up both plates and start carrying them to the couch.  
  
"No. No way," he protests simply, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine and following me. "There is no way that the six million dollar man checked into your hotel."  
  
"Yes, there is."  
  
"What, are you kidding me? The six million dollar man? 'Stronger, Faster, Better'?" Chris quotes the opening sequence of the show to me. I nod.  
  
"Famous people check in everyday."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Like who?" There's a flash of something in his eyes as he pours a glass of wine and hands it to me, but I can't tell what.  
  
"Um, we had Tony Shalhoub in a couple months ago. Ooh, and someone else. Oh! I know! Sally Struthers. Yeah, she's great. Uh, oh, someone _you'd_ know..." I trail off in thought, and then look up at Chris' face. He's trying sooo hard not to laugh, it's hilarious. Now I know that flash in his eyes was his teasing flash. It seems to me I've been seeing it a lot more lately. I push him playfully. He finally bursts out laughing.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he responds to the look on my face, which I'm pretty sure is a mixture of outrage and amusement.  
  
"Now, if I were you, I wouldn't be so rude to the entertainer."  
  
He gets my meaning and turns to the TV. I lift the remote and turn it on, and then realize I left the DVDs over near the kitchen. I look helplessly at Chris, who sighs, sets down his plate, and walks over to them. I smile giddily and lean back into the couch. Oh, aren't boyfriends the greatest?  
  
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**Paris Gellar**  
  
It's quiet. Very, very quiet. I wish Rory hadn't stolen my notecards.  
  
"Paris?" Tristan asks, shaking me from my thoughts. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
"You want some dessert?"  
  
"Uh, sure. Cheesecake."  
  
"A piece of the cheesecake, two forks," Tristan announces to the waiter, handing the dessert menu to him. He asked for two forks! That's so cool! Maybe the make-up Rory gave to me after school actually helped!  
  
"Have I mentioned how good you look tonight?" Tristan asks me, gesturing to my outfit, which is actually Rory's outfit. She lent it to me yeserday, when I rushed over to her house--carefully avoiding Tristan's room--and declared that she help me out.  
  
"T-thank you. You look nice, too."  
  
"Oh, this? It's nothing." Tristan waves his hand as if his outfit doesn't mean anything, but Rory told me it's his date outfit and costs about three hundred dollars.  
  
"Well, then, you wear nothing well." I bluch almost immediately as I realize what I said, and Tristan, taking a sip of his drink, shoots his eyebrows up so high it looks like they'll fall from his head. I giggle nervously. "I mean--"  
  
"I know what you mean, Paris. It's okay. Really."  
  
"Oh." I breathe a sigh of relief. "Good. Uh, so...what are you doing this weekend?"  
  
"I'm trying to weasel into Mary's date with that Collum guy tomorrow. Hey, you wanna come?"  
  
"Uh, where?"  
  
"They're going to see some weird musical in New York. _Kiss Kate_ or something."  
  
"They're going to see _Kiss Me, Kate_ on Broadway tomorrow and you're expecting to go?"  
  
"Mary said they had six tickets and were trying to get two more couples to go with them. You wanna be my date?"  
  
"Uh..." Let's see. _Kiss Me, Kate_ in New York with Tristan? YES!! "Sure," I say rather nonchalantly, very proud of myself for not shooting from my seat and kissing him right in the middle of Toscana.  
  
"Great. We'll also be going to dinner."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"So I'll pick you up around three or four?"  
  
"Why don't I just stop by your house? That why you guys can eliminate a stop."  
  
"Okay, sure, I guess that's a better way of doing it. You're so intelligent, Paris."  
  
I blush once again, and try to hide behind my glass, as I lift it and take a sip.  
  
~~~~  
  
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**Rory DuGrey**  
  
"I meant to ask you--" I turn to Nathaniel as we walk down the streets of Stars Hollow, back to Luke's. "How are we going to New York tomorrow?"  
  
"Oh, we're going with my brother and his girlfriend."  
  
"Oh, so I just need to find one more couple."  
  
"Right."  
  
"What about my brother? He really wants to go."  
  
"Sure. We're just trying to make it a couples thing, so he can only go if he's got a date."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure he can get one."  
  
"Okay, great." Nathaniel smiles. I smile back and lead him up the steps of the diner. The bells over the door jingle and we walk in. It's deserted. The only person in the entire place is Luke, standing behind the counter, wiping it off.  
  
"Hey," he greets, throwing the rag over his shoulder. "Coffee?"  
  
"Of course," I reply, settling onto a stool. Nathaniel sits next to me and nods.  
  
"Coffee for me, too."  
  
"I don't even have to ask about you anymore," Luke says, setting my coffee in front of me and reaching for a cup for Nathaniel. "Here you go." Luke gives Nathaniel his coffee and then looks behind us at the sky. "Looks like rain. How are you guys getting home?"  
  
I shrug and turn to my boyfriend, who swallows and asks, "Bus?"  
  
"No, no bus. Get someone to drive you home. Hell, I'll do it. Dinner rush is over. I'll close down an hour early."  
  
"Oh, you don't have to do that!" I protest, but Luke stubbornly shakes his head.  
  
"No, I'm driving you home and I won't take no for an answer."  
  
"Thanks," Nathaniel says. Luke smiles.  
  
Three-quarters of an hour later, it's _pouring_. Luke drives his pickup as close to my front door as he can, but he's still a ways away. Nathaniel, sitting in the middle of me and Luke, kisses me quickly on the cheek as I leave. I race through the rain to the door, and as soon as I'm under the covering I turn back and smile. Both guys wave and then drive off. I walk into my house, depositing my soggy coat and backpack in the foyer, and head up the stairs, only to be ambushed by both Tristan and Lupe when I reach the second floor landing.  
  
"You're home late," Tristan says in an accusatory tone of voice.  
  
"Senorita Paris llamo tu. Muchos tiempos."  
  
"It's only a quarter of ten," I say to Tristan, sailing past him and up to the third floor. Lupe follows me.  
  
"That's no excuse!" Tristan yells from behind us, but after I continue walking he turns and begrudgingly goes into his room.  
  
"Senorita Paris llamo tu muchos tiempos." Lupe repeats her previous phrase, namely that Paris has called me a lot.  
  
"Gracias. Voy a llamar Paris ahora." I assure the older woman that I am going to call Paris now and thank her for the message. She nods and starts to leave. Then she turns back around.  
  
"Te diviertiste?" Lupe asks, wondering if I'd had a good time. I nod.  
  
"Mucho bueno."  
  
She practically giggles and hurries off. I turn and head up the stairs to my room on the third floor, the only room up there. I walk into my room and immediately pick up the phone and dial. Paris answers on the first ring.  
  
"Rory?"  
  
"I had a wonderful time," I gush, kicking off my shoes and falling onto my bed.   
  
"Oh, me too!" Paris squeals. It's weird to hear Paris squeal. "He kissed me!"  
  
"What?" I sit straight up. "He kissed you?"  
  
"Yeah! He had your driver drop me off, but first he walked me to my door and kissed me!"  
  
"Oh, that's wonderful!"  
  
"I know! And he invited me to go to New York with you and Nathaniel tomorrow."  
  
"Oh, cool! I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go. And you can stay over here after."  
  
"Sure. Actually, can I come over there around noon tomorrow?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"And we'll study for a while, and then you'll help me dress."  
  
"Sure," I repeat, smiling.   
  
"Cool. So, what'd you guys do?"  
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"Christopher!" I call in a sing-song voice, entering our apartment. I drop my coat and our mail somewhere...._near_ the door, at least, and then walk further into the apartment. "Christopher!" I call a little more urgently, and this time he emerges from the back.  
  
"Hey," he smiles, walking over to me. "You excited?"  
  
"Dinner and a show, normal New York entertainment," I say almost non-chalantly as he slides his arms around my waist.  
  
He rolls his eyes and leans in for a kiss, but I stop him.  
  
"Finsish shaving and towel off first, kiss later."  
  
He groans. "I'm half-clean!" he protests, rubbing his clean-chaven left side, as I push him towards the bathroom.  
  
"Get all clean, first. This is a very expensive jacket. Although I do admit the whole shirtless thing? I'm digging that."  
  
"I think it's groovy that you're digging it, man."  
  
"Ha, ha. Shave." I push him into the bathroom and slam the door shut in his face. I grin. I tell you, that man can be so silly. I walk into our room, shedding my expensive jacket _near_ the bed and walking into my huge walk-in closet. I search through the back and pull out a long black sheath. Just perfect for the theater. After I slip into it I walk past my calendar on my way to my dresser for jewelry. And right there, on today's date, Chris has drawn a huge circle with the words, "Dinner at Cicero's and 'Kiss Me, Kate' TONIGHT!!" in it. I smile at it as I root through my jewelry, looking for the perfect accessory. 


	7. Fate

Title: Another World  
Chapter 7: Fate  
  
I love all my reviewers! Love ya! Love ya!!  
  
Oh, yeah, and this chapter was originally titled "Serendipity Ain't Just A John Cusack Movie." Personally I think that's a better name, but since the movie didn't come out till 2001 and this story is currently set in early 2000, I thought that would be presenting the facts wrong. So for some strange reason I've changed the name. Don't ask, just read.  
  
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**Rory DuGrey**  
  
Paris and I have spent the last two hours in the back seat of Nathaniel's older brother's car, doubled over with laughter. Nathaniel's older brother, Ben, has been going out with Grace Allen for over a year. Apparently Ben's been living in Stars Hollow with his aunt for a couple years, and going to Chilton. Anyway, Grace is this fabulously funny senior, and she's been making Paris and me laugh for the entire trip to New York.  
  
"We're here," Ben grunts from the front seat as he pulls the Suburban to a stop in a parking garage. I swear, those are the first words he's said all night. As outgoing as Nathaniel is, that how introverted Ben is.  
  
"Ben, baby honey sweetie," Grace says, climbing out of the car and attaching onto Ben's arm, "Can we blow off Cicero's? It's too stuffy and up-tight."  
  
"We have reservations," Ben explains.  
  
"Oh, I know that." Grace waves her hand, dismissing the thought. "But I wanna go someplace fun. Show the freshmen how cool we can be." Grace glances at us, and then pulls Ben a few feet away. She whispers something into his ear, and he finally nods, and then she kisses him. Passionately. Nathaniel, Paris and I look away, but Tristan just stares for a minute. Finally I slap him on the shoulder, and he glares at me, and then takes Paris' arm, following my lead.  
  
"We're going out for pizza before the play." Grace announces happily as she and Ben walk over. "And I know the best place." She throws her arms around Ben's neck, kisses him quickly on the cheek, and then they turn and start leading us away.  
  
Paris, holding on to Tristan's arm, follows them, and I can just tell that she's about to die she's so happy. Nathaniel and I bring up the rear.  
  
"You look beautiful tonight," he whispers into my ear, sending chills up my spine.  
  
"Thank you," I half-blush. He's great--absolutely wonderful.  
  
We continue walking for awhile, and as we're walking into the parking garage elevator, he whispers, "Lorelai."  
  
I swat him. "Don't call me that. I told you that in confidence, and I don't want to be called that name." It seems weird to be called Lorelai, especially knowing that that's my mother's name. And that she's using it, right now. I told Nathaniel about my mother and her name--basically almost everything I know about her, except the fact that she had me when she was sixteen. I don't know why I told him...he's just got one of those faces. "Call me Rory," I plead.  
  
"Only if you call me Nate."  
  
"Nate the Great." I nod. "That'll work."  
  
He laughs, and Tris turns around to glare at him. I glare right back, and almost take the book out of my purse and throw it at him, but refrain myself at the last moment.  
  
"Where are we?" Paris asks as the elevator doors open to reveal the lobby of an apartment building.  
  
"Oh, it's our dad's building. He uses it whenever he...'works late'," Natha--Nate explains, adding the innuendo to 'working late.'  
  
"Oh." Paris says quietly.  
  
"Yeah," Ben agrees.  
  
"Let's not think about that." Grace says suddenly. "Let's think about being in the greatest city in the world!" She yells the last word, throwing her arms into the air. Ben ducks his head, almost as if he's embarrassed to be there, and she smiles at that. Their relationship is very interesting, and I've been analyzing it all night. I don't know why, really. I just have.  
  
"So where is this alleged pizza place?" Tris finally speaks up.  
  
"Ooh, alleged. Big word!" I say patronizingly. Tris glares again as Grace speaks up.  
  
"Right around the corner from the theater. I think we have to take the subway to get there, though."  
  
"Oh, I don't want to take the subway," Paris protests. "I've heard horrible things about the subway."  
  
"Oh, come on, Gellar! What fun would it be to go to New York if we didn't ride the subway and got pizza in floor-length black dresses?" I say. Paris realizes that she really can't win this argument, and so she just nods.  
  
"Great. Wagons ho!" Grace yells, holding her right fist high in the air, her left fist settled on her hip. "Is it a bird? A plane?" she asks as she walks out onto a New York City sidewalk, pretending to fly like Superman. "No, it's SuperGrace! Yee-ha!" She turns, grabs Ben's hands, and leads him to the subway station, walking backwards.  
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"That was fabulous," I tell Chris, remembering the ice cream from dinner as we walk out of Cicero's.  
  
"Anything to make you forget what today is."  
  
Yeah, thanks for reminding me, Chris. Thanks a whole hell of a lot. I try to glare at him, but he's just staring innocently ahead to the "Don't Walk" sign, willing it to change.  
  
Today's the day our little one was concieved. It's been striking me on and off all day long. I'll get busy for a little while, and then suddenly, when I'm doing something terribly important, like breathing, the thought will just hit me--my little girl, who was concieved today, is off running around somewhere, not even thinking about her parents. And then I'll forget to do what I'm doing, and I'll usually sink into a chair somewhere, and eventually someone will find me with a problem, and I'll resume breathing and whatever else I was doing at the time.  
  
People don't actually think about all the days that affect you after you give up a child. Of course everyone knows about the child's birthday, and that you're shocked at that point, but there's also the day the child was concieved, the day you found out you were pregnant, the day she kicked for the first time, the day you signed the slip of paper that released her from you forever, the day you went into labor, the moment you first saw her.... Any number of things, that just strike you, off and on, at unexpected points during the day.  
  
I sigh softly, and try to glare at Chris again. But this time when I look at his face, it doesn't look like he's innocently waiting for the light to change, but he looks as if he's got some deep pain that's going on underneath the surface. I slip my hand in his and lean my head against his shoulder. He looks at me and smiles sadly, and we feel akin once again. The light finally changes, and we walk across the street.  
  
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**Tristan DuGrey**  
  
Oh, my God. Somehow I agreed to go to a _musical_ about a _musical_ based on _Shakespeare_. Oh, I might just hang myself in the bathroom by the time this is over. At least it's intermission, and I can get out of the stuffy little theater, that certainly doesn't look big enough to be Broadway. It looks like it's at least Off-Broadway, probably Off-Off-Broadway.  
  
Whatever.  
  
The girls are all sitting in their seats, probably giggling over something. Ben, Nate and I all left, trying to get away from the horrible play for a while, even if it is only fifteen minutes. Ben is currently in the bathroom, and Nate and I are standing at the refreshment counter, finishing up our sodas. You know, Nate's not that bad a guy. Especially compared to his brother, Nate seems relatively intelligent and funny, just right for my sister. I might have to let her date him.  
  
"Hey, barkeep! Another for me and my friend. And don't tell us we've had enough. After all, we're not driving home." Nate says, pointing to his and my empty cups. The guy behind the counter rolls his eyes and sets two more plastic cups filled with Sprite in front of us. Nate and I give this exaggerated happy sigh and each take a sip. We've been doing this for five minutes already, and it's still fun. We pick up our cups, turn around, and lean our backs onto the counter. We scan the crowd for some reason, pretending as if we're looking for someone, when no one else we know is there.  
  
Except for her. A tall, maybe five-eight girl. Like Mary. And she's wearing a sleeveless, floor-length black dress. Like Mary. Her long, brown hair is partially curled and hangs just between her shoulders. Like Mary.  
  
And she's fawning all over a five-nine, five-ten guy with light brown hair.  
  
Nate stiffens beside me, and I can tell he's thinking the same thing I'm thinking. Rory somehow has managed to sneak away from Paris and Grace, and is now standing in front of us, blatantly flirting with some unknown guy. Nate slams his empty cup on the counter behind him and starts stalking over to her. I do the same.  
  
"Uh, Lor?" The guy says, noticing the looks on our faces as we walk over. Before she can respond to him, Nate has clamped his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Rory." he says in this ice-cold voice, so cold I can practically see icicles hanging in the air. I resolve at that point never to get on his bad side.  
  
"Lorelai," the girl protests, and she spins around to look right in Nate's eyes. And it's not Mary. It's definitely not Mary, but it could be Mary. I swear, this girls could be sisters. Twins, almost. Because the best part about Mary is definitely her eyes. I mean, my mom and dad and I all have blue eyes, but our eyes are a pale blue. Mary's are piercing. They're this deep blue, so deep you could sink into them, and when she's mad, they get this spark of fire in them, right in the middle. I know, because she almost always sparks them at me.  
  
This girl's eyes are the exact same.   
  
The guy's eyes are almost piercing, but not quite. They're kind of middling, average, blue.  
  
"Lorelai?" Nate asks in this strangled little voice.  
  
"Lorelai Gilmore." The woman sticks out her hip and rests her hand on it, daring Nate to challenge her. I wrack my brain, because I know that name.  
  
Lorelai Gilmore. Lorelai Gilmore. Lorelai Alexis DuGrey. That's my sister's name. How many people would name their kid Lorelai? When Mary and I were about eight, we wanted to know what Lorelai meant, and we looked it up. It turns out it was originally "Lorelei," and Loreleis were this monsters from German legend, and they would sit on rocks and sing for sailors, and sailors would follow their voices and dash the boats on the rocks, and the Loreleis would be thrilled because that's what they wanted in the first place.  
  
"Lorelai Alexis DuGrey's my sister's name," I say without thinking.  
  
All three of them go pale. Nate, Lorelai, and the other guy.  
  
"Dude, don't tell people that," Nate hisses.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Forget I told you that." I tell the couple. They're obviously a couple. The girl has semi-fainted, and she's kind of leaning into the guy's arms. He's struggling to hold her up, because he's about to semi-faint himself.  
  
"Let's go." Ben walks up behind us and places a hand on both of our shoulders. "Say goodbye to the nice people." He steers us back to our seat as the lights dim.  
  
I glance back one last time at Lorelai and her guy, and the guy is sitting on the floor, Lorelai's head in his lap. Lorelai is full-out fainted on the floor, and the guy's waving his program in her face. He glances up and catches my eye--he's got this unreadable look on his face, like a mixture between joy, fear, and disbelief. I quickly look away, and don't look back again.  
  
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**Nathaniel Collum**  
  
"Hey, what's your mom's name?" I ask Rory. We're sitting at her kitchen table, and she's got an American History book in front of her, and I've got my Trig book in front of me. She glances up at me weirdly for a split-second, and then finishes her paragraph. I'm used to this. She frequently looks at me for a second if I ask her a question while she's reading, and then finishes whatever it is she's absorbed in.  
  
"That was random," she says in response to my question mere moments later.  
  
"Yeah, I was--was just thinking about it."  
  
"Why?" she asks suspiciously. I wonder if I should tell her the truth. You know, I think I met her about a month ago. But I don't think I can say that.  
  
I shrug.  
  
"It's Lorelai, I already told you that." She's got a final note in her voice, like 'this is the end of the conversation.'  
  
"What's her last name?"  
  
"Uh, I don't know. Gelman or something like that."  
  
"Gelman's the name of the guy on _Regis and Kathy Lee_."  
  
She laughs. "I _so_ don't want to know how you knew that."  
  
"Well, whatever. I don't think it's Gelman."  
  
"Oh, and how would you know?" she asks angrily, slamming her history book shut.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"Uh, nothing. I just don't think you're related to the guy on the Regis show."  
  
"Oh." Oh, thank God, she's calmed down. "Yeah, I guess not." She opens her book back up. I heave a sigh of relief, and we return to silently studying.  
  
"Gilmore," she whispers after a few minutes.  
  
My head snaps up. "What'd you say?"  
  
"I think it's Gilmore. Lorelai Gilmore."  
  
"Oh, okay." I look back at my Triginometry book. Big information. What to do, what to do.... 


	8. It'll Be Okay

Title: Another World  
Chapter 8: It'll Be Okay  
  
A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long. I was working on my other stories, "Always You" and "Rory Gilmore, This Is Your Life!" along with my joint fic with Seehoo under the name 'dodgerluvsrory': "The Cat Came Back." Yeah, so go read those, please!  
  
Oh, yes, and thank you for my reviewers.  
  
Oh, and I'm jumping forward a few months. See, the whole play thing was in Febuary or March, and then Nate asked Rory what her mom's name was in March or April--I'm not entirely sure. Anyway, it is now late May, almost summer.  
  
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**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"I want to go." I say into the phone.  
  
"Lor, come on. You're the whole reason we haven't talked to her or seen her since she was born." Chris, ever the voice of reason--at least right now--says soothingly.  
  
"I don't care!" I yell, a little too diva-y and a little too loudly, judging by the stares I'm getting from some of our guests. I gesture for Colleen, the front desk clerk, to guard the main hotel phone, and carry my cell-phone into my office.  
  
"I don't care about that," I repeat, a little saner this time. "I want to see her."  
  
"Lor," Chris sighs.  
  
"Look, we met her adoptive brother on the very night that we went out to keep our minds off of...you know."  
  
"Yeah, I do know, but seriously--do you really want to just pop up in her life one day? Or do you want her to read the stuff you wrote her and left for her to read on her sixteenth birthday first? Cause we could do it that way, and then arrange for the DuGreys to go to your parents' for Thanksgiving, or Christmas."  
  
"I have to wait till Christmas?" I wail, although I know that Chris is right.  
  
"Yes. Wait till Emily's insanely early Christmas party, and then you can meet her. And show her where she was conceived."  
  
"You know what? I think I'm gonna save that for the second meeting."  
  
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." I can hear Chris' smile through the phone. "But right now why don't you put the phone away and tend to your guests. Keep your mind off of it. I'll bring home a movie and dinner, and then you can take a bath. A nice, long, bubble bath."  
  
"Oh, you pamper me."  
  
"Well, I should."  
  
"I agree. Thank you, Chris," I add, sincerely.  
  
"You're welcome, Lor. It's the least I can do."  
  
"I love you," I say, seconds away from hanging up.  
  
"I love you too. So very much."  
  
I smile. Widely. "Bye."  
  
"Bye." Chris hangs up first, and then I slowly press the 'end' button. I place the cell-phone gingerly into the pocket of my jacket, stand up from my desk, and walk out of my office, my head held high, and my mind on anything except the fact that I met the boy who has been my little girl's brother for fifteen years.  
  
Wait, if I'm thinking _that_...  
  
Oops.  
  
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~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Nathaniel Collum**  
  
You know, I really thought that I'd changed. But I guess the nature of people is really summed up in a phrase I once heard in an episode of "Charmed": Seasons change. People don't.  
  
I don't think I've changed. I've met a very unique girl--and I don't know whether that's good or bad. Bad, I guess, cause she's making me regress to my old ways.  
  
My old ways suck.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Christopher Hayden**  
  
"Lor?" I call, closing the door to our apartment softly behind me. I pause for a second and lock and chain the door, and then I walk further into our apartment. "Lor," I call again, setting the video and take out on a table and making my way to the bathroom. Sure enough the door is closed. I knock.  
  
"Yeah, I'm here," Lor calls, and I can hear the water swishing as she moves around. "I'll be out in just a sec."  
  
"Take your time," I say, but she's already unplugged the tub.  
  
After five minutes she appears in the living room and plops onto the couch next to me. She's wearing pajamas and her wet hair is held in a loose bun on top of her head. I hold my arm out, and she leans into me. I hand her chopsticks and a box of Chinese food, she digs in as I press play on the remote.  
  
Half-an-hour into _The Unsinkable Molly Brown_, Debbie Reynolds is singing about...something--I tuned out about twenty minutes ago--and Lor is happily settled onto my shoulder. The doorbell rings, which is weird, because in our building you have to either be buzzed up or know the doorman to get in. I look at Lor; she shrugs, so I slide from under her head and walk to the door. I look through the peephole, and it's one of the boys we met at the play a month ago. Well, I guess I can't say 'met' since I don't know who the hell he is. But he's not dangerous, and he looks really nervous, and--this is the cincher--he knows Rory, so I pull the door open.  
  
"Mr. Gilmore?" he asks.  
  
"No," I start, but he cuts me off.  
  
"I'm looking for Lorelai Gilmore. Is she here?"  
  
"We--"  
  
"Who is it, Chris?" Lorelai asks, suddenly appearing at my side. "Oh," she whispers, noticing the boy.  
  
"Lorelai Gilmore?" he asks, almost impatiently.  
  
"Yes," she whispers, going pale, and I fear that she's gonna faint like she did the last time we met...this guy.  
  
"I have something to say to you."  
  
"Uh-huh," Lor whispers. She looks really bad. I turn to the boy with a nasty look on my face.  
  
"How did you get into our building?"  
  
"My dad lives here sometimes. Look, I have a message from--"  
  
"How did you know that we live here?"  
  
"I--I looked you up."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He pauses and then launches into his speech again. "I have a message from Rory. Well, not really from her, but about her."  
  
"Go away," I say menacingly, but Lor places a hand on my arm.  
  
"I wanna hear it," she whispers. She's still pale, but not quite so bad. I nod and don't close the door. Lor turns to the boy. "Go ahead."  
  
"Thank you. As I was saying, I have a message about Rory. She didn't want me to come, but I thought you should know." He falters for a minute.  
  
"Yeah?" I say expectantly.  
  
"I'm Rory's boyfriend. She--she's cheating on me, and she cheats on me a lot. She's already had three abortions and we haven't even had sex."  
  
"Three abortions?" I whisper. "But she's only--"  
  
"Fifteen. She's only fifteen." Lorelai loses a little more color and leans into me.  
  
"I know. I keep trying to tell her she's in a self-destructive pattern, but she doesn't pay attention to me. She keeps yelling at me, and she's violent with everyone, especially her family members. Once I asked her about it, and she answered me. She said it's because she's never felt loved."  
  
"We did that, Chris. We ruined her," Lor whispers into my shirt sleeve.  
  
"She's not ruined," I protest.  
  
"No, of course not." The boy backs me up. "She's only a little...damaged."  
  
"And just what do you propose we do?" I ask.  
  
"I'm not sure, really," the boy admits. "I just thought you should know."  
  
"Can you tell her that we love her?" I ask. The boy nods. Lor sags into me a little more. "And can you leave now, please? We need to go." I gesture to Lor; he nods and turns to go.  
  
"Are you sure you don't have anything else to say about her? Or anything else you want me to tell her?" he asks, almost hopefully.  
  
"Just that we love her. That's enough for now."  
  
He nods, slowly, and then walks away, hanging his head. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was disappointed.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
I sincerely hate exams.  
  
I don't care if I'm smart. I don't care if it's easy if you study. I don't care if I love it when I get good grades. I still sincerely hate rushing through a final chapter, and then studying your ass off, and then sitting for a nerve wracking hour, trying to remember all the crap you crammed into your already over tired head last night.  
  
What I _do_ love, however is the end of final exams. Or, as I like to call it, 'finally, exams are over.'  
  
Ah, air.  
  
I walk out of Chilton Preparatory for the last time until August, my locker empty and my backpack deceptively light. Paris walks next to me. She's semi-tense. I think she's finally happy because exams are over, but she's got about ten thousand summer plans, starting next week, and my brother just broke up with her a few weeks ago. She's been avoiding my house, and insisting we meet at her house, even though she hates being there.  
  
I could kill Tristan. I mean it, I could kill him with my bare hands. Paris just isn't Paris if she's not completely over the top with scary energy, and she's been down in the mouth ever since he ever-so-subtly walked up to her in the school hallway and said, "Paris. It's over." and walked off.  
  
I'm going to throw War and Peace at him when I get home. Hardcover.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Nathaniel Collum**  
  
Do I really want to do this?  
  
. . .  
  
Yeah, I do.  
  
Rory's mom and dad didn't give me that much to work with. Just all that "I love her" crap. That's not something you can comfort your girlfriend for, that's something good. I'll have to make crap up.  
  
You know, I almost wish that I could just comfort her for something like a bad grade, but usually bad grades don't result in the kind of comforting I want to give Rory. And besides, I'd have to bribe a teacher, and it would go on Rory's permanent record, and all sorts of stuff. I'll just have to settle for permanently damaging her psyche, all for a little sex.  
  
"Here she comes," I murmur to myself, watching as Rory leaves Paris staring into space and walks into the coffee shop. I don't stand up, like I've been doing. Instead, I just sit there. She leans over and pecks me softly on the cheek.  
  
"Hey," she sits down and throws her bookbag on the floor. "That thing is scarily light. I mean it, I keep freaking out that I lost something." She points, and then waves for the waitress to come over.  
  
"We need to talk," I say, seriously.  
  
"Uh-oh," she says mockingly. "Are you breaking up with me?"  
  
"No," I say. "I--"  
  
The waitress walks over, and I glare at her for a minute as Rory places her order. Then she nods and walks off, and I look back at Rory.  
  
"I think I met your mom."  
  
She stops. "What?" she asks, her smile still frozen on her face.  
  
"I think I met your birth mother."  
  
"Oh," she whispers. Her smile disappears, and her head droops. Then she looks up. "How? Where? When?"  
  
"Well, you remember when I asked you what your mom's name was?"  
  
"That long?" She looks like she's gonna hyperventilate, and collapse on the table.  
  
"No...you remember when we went to the play in New York with my brother and your brother?"  
  
Her jaw drops completely. "_That_ long?"  
  
I nod. "That long."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Because I was working up the courage to tell you what she said about you."  
  
"Was it bad?"  
  
I nod, slowly. She immediately stares at the tabletop, and I think I see tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. I feel kind of bad, but decide to barrel on. If things work out the way I think they will, she'll be in my arms in five minutes, tops. I grin, and then stop, because she's looking up at me.  
  
"What'd she say?"  
  
"She said she...she said she didn't want you."  
  
Rory gives a strangled cry. I continue.  
  
"She said she didn't love your dad, and she really didn't want a baby with him. She doesn't want to get to know you."  
  
Rory stands up so quickly that her chair falls down. She grabs her bookbag and rushes from the cafe, crying.  
  
I groan. I didn't want Rory to leave. I can't comfort her if she's at home. Well, _that_ plan backfired.  
  
The waitress walks over and places her coffee at her place.   
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
It's not true, I refuse to believe it, it's not true, I refuse to believe it, it's not true it's not true it's not true! I turn the corner from the coffee shop and run directly into Tristan and some girl.  
  
"Mary! What's wrong?" he asks as soon as he sees me, dropping the bimbo's arm.  
  
"It's not true, I refuse to believe it," I mutter over and over, burying my head into his shoulder.  
  
"What's not true? What is it?" Tris asks, wrapping his arms around me.  
  
"What Nate said, it's not true, it's not true, she doesn't hate me, she loves me, she misses me, she loves me," and with that I break into tears, full-on weeping. Tris tries to comfort me, but he sucks at it, and his slutty date walks off, apparently believing that he's comforting a grieving ex-girlfriend or something. Tris tries to murmur supportive things, but he does manage to lead me to a bench, where he sits me and calls our driver. He waits next to me until the driver picks me up, and even then I'm still clinging to his blazer, so he rides home with me. He leads me to my room, lays me on my bed, next to my old blanket from when I was a baby, and calls our mom, who immediately rushes from her D.A.R. meeting to comfort me.  
  
I spill the whole story to her, and immediately Tris runs out of the house, and I just know he's going to beat up Nate, because he's that protective of me.  
  
"It'll be okay, sweetie. He was just being mean," Mom murmurs into my hair as she rocks me. I just shake my head and cry.  
  
"It'll be okay." 


	9. Progression

Title: Another World  
Chapter Nine: Progression  
  
A/N: Yeah, it's been a while, I'm sorry...okay, to explain about Nate's behaviour in the last chapter, I added another section and more time in Nate's twisted head, so reread it--mainly the Christopher and second Nathaniel part. Yeah.  
  
By the way, the two songs referenced (in order) are "Rock Star" by Everclear and "Hey, Mister" by Custom. ~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
Ah, summer.  
  
You are so wonderful, and I love you. I know you love me.  
  
So why the hell do you have to leave?  
  
I groan and roll onto my stomach.  
  
"Hot," I moan. Paris groans from my armchair, where she looks like a limp noodle.  
  
"Very."  
  
I groan again and push myself up. "I have an idea."  
  
"What?" Paris asks, standing up too.  
  
"We have to go visit Louise."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"We're going swimming."  
  
"Oh, in the indoor pool?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"Perfect idea, Gilmore."  
  
"Thanks, Gellar."  
  
"And on the way, we can quiz each other on feifs."  
  
I groan. "No. No. No way."  
  
"Oh, come on! School starts in less than two weeks!"  
  
"Calm down. You can force me to study next week."  
  
"Okay, fine," Paris sighs.  
  
"Good." I pick up my phone and dial Louise's number, slipping the headset on at the same time.  
  
"Calling Louise?" Paris asks.  
  
"No, the man in the moon. Yes, I'm calling Louise!"  
  
"Sorry. Heat."  
  
"Yuck, heat."  
  
"Hello, Grant Industries, how may I direct your call?" a chipper young voice announces in my ear.  
  
"Oh, sorry, I'm calling for Louise Grant."  
  
"Rory?"  
  
"Louise?"  
  
"Yeah...why're you calling me?"  
  
"Paris and I wanted to come over and use the pool. Why are you answering your phone like that?"  
  
"Cause my dad's office is being fumigated, and all his calls are getting directed here, and I'm his secretary till school starts back up."  
  
"Oh. So we can't use the pool?"  
  
"Not now, sorry. And if I were you I wouldn't want to anyway. Madeline came over yesterday and brought her brother."  
  
"Eww! Enough said!"  
  
"Yeah. So if I were you two, I'd find somewhere else to cool off. I suggest bikinis and ice in front of the air conditioning in the movie room."  
  
"Good idea. Although I think Tris might be home."  
  
Paris looks up at this.  
  
"Ooh, your brother's home? I'd love to be in a bikini in front of Tristan," Louise purrs into the phone.  
  
"Louise! Please! He's my brother!"  
  
"He's not your real brother, you know."  
  
"Not genetically, but seriously, Louise! Eww! That's worse than Madeline's brother!"  
  
"God, sorry. Ooh, I gotta go. My dad's coming."  
  
"Bye." I say as the dial tone sounds in my ear. I press the button on my phone and slide the headset off. Paris looks at me nervously.  
  
"Did I hear you say that your brother was home?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. But don't worry. He won't bother us."  
  
Right on time, there's this huge thud on the other side of my wall, and a stereo starts playing. Loudly. Like 'the house is about to fall down' loudly. And it's the same stupid song Tristan has been blaring for the past two weeks. I walk over to my wall and bang on it with my fist.  
  
"Tris! Turn it down!" I yell. The noise is lowered from an eleven to a nine and Tris waltzes into the room singing.  
  
"I just want to be a rock star, yeah, I wanna tell all the little people they can kiss my ass."  
  
"Tris! For God's sake! You already do that! You can't sing! The song's not that good!"  
  
"I just wanna be a rock star. I just wanna get _laid_," he sings in response, aiming the last word loudly towards me. I shove him.  
  
"Please, sing any other song. Any song at all."  
  
"Hey, Mister, I really like your daughter. I wanna eat her like ice cream, maybe dip her in chocolate," he starts to sing, ignoring the incredibly loud other song blaring through the wall. I try to push him out my door.  
  
"It's not what you did, it's not what you didn't. She just likes getting her f--"  
  
"Tristan Adrien DuGrey!" I scream. "Stop it!"  
  
He shrugs and walks away. I shake my head as the music from next door stops abruptly. Boys. Ugh. Little brothers. Ughughugh!!  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"It's September," I announce proudly to Christopher as he walks into the kitchen early September first.  
  
"Yes, it is," he nods, heading for my coffee cup. I slap him away and he pours his own cup. Ah, I've trained him well.  
  
"Only one month and seven days left."  
  
"That's right," he nods again, kisses me softly on the cheek and walks back into our room.  
  
"One month and seven days, one month and seven days, one month and seven days," I start singing, dancing around the kitchen and sticking eggos in the toaster. As the waffles pop up, Chris walks back into the kitchen, this time wearing dress pants and a white shirt. He's got a tie wrapped loosely around his neck.  
  
"Help," he begs as he walks over to me.  
  
"You tie one of these every day. Why can't you do it today?" I ask, draping his tie around my neck and tying it.  
  
"Big meeting, head honchos, very nervous," he forces out. I slip his tie over his head and tighten it.  
  
"You'll be fine," I say, kissing him on the cheek. He grabs onto my shoulders as I try to move away and kisses me square on the lips. It's a long kiss. It's a good kiss. Makes me want to undo his tie.  
  
"I feel better now," he pants, finally breaking away from me.  
  
"And I can face the day," I smile. He groans.  
  
"Too cheesy."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, bad."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"That's okay, it's morning."  
  
"Mmm. Kiss." I lean into Christopher again, and he happily obliges with another long kiss that I enjoy again. I finally have to pull myself away, and do so...eventually.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Alexis DuGrey**  
  
I'm incredibly nervous. I'm not sure why. Oh, wait, I remember.  
  
I'm about to tell my daughter all about her birth mother, and after she learns the information, she can legally go live with her other mother.  
  
That's the arrangement Emily Gilmore and I agreed on sixteen years ago, and that's the arrangement I'm about to tell Rory about.  
  
Ah, hell, I'm not telling her anything.  
  
I grab a piece of paper from my desk and my very expensive Mont Blanc pen and scribble a short note, explaining the arrangement and what all the crap in the box on my bed is. I sign my name with a flourish, tape the note to the top of the box, and smile at my handiwork. As an after-thought, I slide the pen into the box, too. Then I call my daughter into my room.  
  
"Rory!"  
  
"Yeah, Mom?" she asks, walking into my room. She's wearing great 'see traveling parents off' clothes.  
  
"Can you take this bag downstairs to the limo?"  
  
"Sure," she says, hardly fazed by the weight of my makeup bag.  
  
"Thanks. I'll be right there. Wait for me."  
  
"Okay." She turns and leaves the room. I watch her go and then heave the large box off my bed and head into Rory's room. I arrange it so it's directly in front of her large new TV and DVD collection, a birthday present from me. My therapist is pretty sure that the TV and DVD collection are so extensive because I'm trying to guilt Rory into staying. She might be right.  
  
I close the door softly behind me, head back into my room, and pick up my suitcases. I flick the light off, close the door, and walk downstairs.  
  
"Ready?" John grunts at me. I hate the new John. He's been working his ass off for a while, and he hasn't been his normal self. In other words, the only time I really like my husband is when we go away somewhere, like Paris, which is where we're headed now. Ah, Paris. The city of lights and love.  
  
"Yeah," I smile at John, who grunts once again and hugs Rory.  
  
"Bye, Daddy," she says, hugging him back.  
  
"Bye, sweetheart. Behave yourself," John glares at Tristan, standing next to Rory, who nods.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." John nods curtly and slips into the backseat of the limo. I turn to my children.  
  
"Be especially nice to your sister," I whisper into Tristan's ear as I hug him. He nods into my shoulder. I pull away from him, smile, kiss him on the cheek, and turn to Rory as he wipes his cheek frantically.  
  
"I'm so sorry we're leaving the day after your birthday."  
  
"It's okay," Rory smiles. "Just as long as you're back for Christmas."  
  
"We will. We'll be back December 20th." I hug Rory tightly as Tristan groans about two months with his grandfather.  
  
"Bye, Mom," Rory says, pulling away from the hug.  
  
"Bye. I love both of you."  
  
"Love you, too." Rory returns. Tristan just grunts.  
  
"Mind your grandfather. Not too much coffee. Have fun, but not too much." I smile, wave, and slide into the limo.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory Gilmore**  
  
I don't like staying with my grandfather. He's really strict and mean, and I don't think he likes the fact that I'm not actually related to his son, yet I'm freeloading off of them until I'm eighteen.  
  
"Off to see Grandfather DuGrey," Tristan half-groans under his breath as our parents' limo rounds the corner, out of our sight.  
  
"He's not picking us up till ten tomorrow morning."  
  
"Thank God for small favors."  
  
We turn and head into the house, which is completely devoid of any other human lifeforms. It's always very strange when our parents leave, because they give the servents time off and ship us off to Janlen DuGrey's house.  
  
"We're all alone," Tristan remarks, waggling his eyebrows. "I wonder what Alison's doing tonight."  
  
"Eww!" I shout, shoving him. "No!"  
  
"What? Mom said to have fun."  
  
"But not too much, and that's just...way, _way_ too much fun."  
  
"So what do you want to do? Night of freedom."  
  
"Invite Paris, Madeline, and Louise over for a movie night, with my brand-new, big and huge entertaiment center. Oh, and kick you out of the house."  
  
"Fine with me." Tris shrugs. "Benny's got a new car."  
  
"I thought you were going out with Alison."  
  
"Alison can't drive."  
  
I shove him again, this time disgusted at his male chauvanist pig-ness. "I get the phone first."  
  
"Whatever." He walks off. I pick up the nearest book and heave it at his retreating back. He yells in pain and I smile and head for the phone.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Coming Up Next:**  
  
The discovery of the "birth mom" box  
Movie night  
Gripping explanations of the different good qualities of the guys from Tears for Fears  
Janlen and Emily interact over early Christmas cocktails  
They meet! 


	10. The Beginning of the End

Title: Another World  
Chapter Ten: The Beginning of the End  
  
Finally, the long-awaited chapter...even long awaited by me. Anyway, I've been busy for a while, cause I was in a play, but now I'm out of school till a week from next Monday, so I'm gonna finish the story.  
  
Thanks for waiting!  
  
Ooh, and if anyone knows how to write in actual screenplay format on the computer or how I could do that I would greatly appreciate it, cause I've got another idea floating around in my head.  
  
Thanks, people!  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore  
Ages 8-16  
**  
_April 22, 1976  
  
Hi. My name is Lorel  
  
_~_  
  
Feburary 15, 1984  
  
Fabulous news! Absolutely fabulous!  
  
I had a fabulous night last night. First of all, it snowed. Right away, that's good, cuz I seriously love snow.  
  
Second of all, Chris and I went out for Valentine's Day, and we didn't get home till around three this morning! Luckily my parents are up, up, away and gone! They left last night for a week in Prauge. The Haydens went with them, which means that Chris and I were lucky enough to spend a Tuesday night partying!  
  
Of course, the best part of the party wasn't with other people, if you know what I mean...and I'm sure you do!  
  
I love spending time with Chris. It's wonderfully exciting, being around Chris. I like him best in the leather jacket on the motorcycle--with me on the back. Oops, gotta go--I'm writing this in class, and Mrs. Johannsen's shooting me one of her world-famous looks. Bye!  
  
_~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
"Is Tristan here?" Louise asks, that slutty look in her eye, the second she steps from the back of her car. I roll my eyes.  
  
"No."  
  
Her shoulders droop almost immediately.  
  
"Oh, calm down. He'll probably seek you out in a few days."  
  
Louise is suddenly happy again, and she bounds past me into the house. I shake my head and follow her.  
  
"So, what movies did _you_ bring?" I hear Paris asking Louise from the living room as I close the front door.  
  
"Early movie roles of the hot guys of today," Louise responds, holding up about five videos.  
  
"Risky Business, Thelma and Louise," Paris starts reading the titles, but then stops and says disgustedly, "Those are the exact same movies Madeline brought."  
  
"Really?" Louise looks at her other half.  
  
Madeline nods. "Oh, yeah, you gotta have Brad and Tom's earliest work."  
  
"Cool!"  
  
Paris makes another noise of disgust and looks at me.  
  
"Don't worry, I've got about a thousand movies in my room. Of all different genres."  
  
"Good," Paris nods.  
  
"Nothing smart, though," Madeline says. "I can't handle smart stuff right before school."  
  
"That's exactly _why_ we should be watching 'smart' movies, as you so eloquently call them." Paris says. Madeline and Louise both put on their whiny faces and open their mouths.  
  
"Don't worry!" I say, just in time. "We'll try to get the best of both worlds. But not too much of each, okay?"  
  
The girls all nod grudgingly. I nod back.  
  
"Good. Okay, I set the stuff up in the entertainment room. I'm gonna grab a few things from my room, and you guys grab the food and I'll meet you there, okay?"  
  
"I'm going with you," Paris announces. I nod.  
  
"Sure. See you guys soon." I turn and head away from Madeline and Louise, who are heading for the kitchen and already bickering over the calories in a bag of extra-butter popcorn.  
  
"I don't know how long I'm gonna stay," Paris says.  
  
"Paris!" I protest, leading the way up the stairs and to my room.  
  
"I've got a test on Monday, and I need to study."  
  
"Paris, it's called _relaxing_. I'm sure you've heard of it, even if you haven't ever tried it."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No buts. You're spending the night, and that's that."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Good." I push open the door to my room and flick on the light. Paris walks past me to my big wall of DVDs and videos, but my gaze is held by the box on my bed. I don't remember that being there before. I walk over to it, slowly.  
  
"Dear Rory,  
Today's the day after your sixteenth birthday, and I've got big news to tell you. Before you were born, I made a deal with Emily Gilmore, your birth mother's mother. We agreed that at the age of sixteen you would learn all about your birth mother and, at that time, if you wished to live with her, you could. So here is the box of stuff that your birth mother, Lorelai Gilmore, wanted you to have on your sixteenth birthday. Please read through it. You are set to visit your birth grandmother halfway through December with Grandfather DuGrey. You do not have to visit Emily if you do not wish to. However, I have been reassured that your birth mother will be there, and she wishes to meet with you desperately. You've got two months to make the decision. Choose wisely. I love you either way.  
Alexis DuGrey"  
  
I lower the note onto my bed and look in the box. Right on top is a journal. I slowly open it.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore**  
  
_April 21, 1984  
  
Oh my God oh my God oh my God.  
  
News.  
  
BIG news.  
  
BIG BIG BIG news.  
  
I'm pregnant.  
  
~  
  
May 1, 1984  
May Day  
  
Well, it's official. I have an it. Parents are insane. Chris is insane.  
  
I refuse to have my parents' life. I just flat out refuse it. You can't make me. I'm going to raise this baby on MY terms, all by myself if I have to. Chris thinks that going to work with my father is a good idea. I disagree. We can't get married, not this young. We'd divorce within a week.  
  
What the hell am I talking about? I can't raise a kid. But I'm not going to get married either. And I'm definitely DEFINITELY not going to abort the baby. It's too late, anyway.  
  
It's settled, then.  
  
The baby's going to a good home, where it'll have anything it ever needs.  
  
I hope.  
  
Oh, I'm gonna miss it when it's gone. The maids always give me ice cream since I'm pregnant, and I haven't had to eat gross pate in about a month. Ooh. Ooh. I can't handle this. I'm gonna go throw up.  
  
_~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~~  
  
**Paris Gellar**  
  
"How do you not have the documentary we saw in school on how they make wheat bread? We have a test Tuesday," I remind my best friend, who's been strangely silent for about ten minutes. "Rory?" I finally turn and look at her. She's sitting on her bed, reading a book.  
  
"What are you reading? We're supposed to be picking out movies for movie night."  
  
"It's a journal. It's my mom's journal."  
  
"What are you doing reading Ms. Lexy's journal?"  
  
"No, it's my birth mom's."  
  
"Really?" I sit on the bed next to Rory. "Anything juicy in there?"  
  
"I think I was conceived on Valentine's Day."  
  
"Eww."  
  
"Yeah, a little bit. But, not thinking about that, my mom seems really normal. This could practically be my journal. She's just a normal teenager."  
  
"Except she's pregnant."  
  
"Well, yeah."  
  
"Huh. So, you want to keep reading, or you want to go downstairs and watch movies?"  
  
"I think I wanna bring the journal downstairs."  
  
"Okay. You wanna go?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, let's go." Rory picks up the journal, I pick up the three movies I picked out, and we head downstairs.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore**  
  
_May 5, 1984  
  
Chris is driving me crazy, I swear to God. He just got his driver's license and insists on coming over--every SINGLE day--to drive me wherever I need to go. I keep trying to tell him that my mom doesn't want me going anywhere, because I'm starting to show, but he doesn't care, so yesterday we went to go see Sixteen Candles AGAIN. I mean, sure, Long Duk Dong was funny the first time around, but now he's just tiring.  
  
Although not really. I guess what's really tiring is Christopher. He won't leave me alone! I mean, yeah, sure, I'm pregnant, and it's his, and crap like that, but he won't stop talking about it! God! I'm still me!  
  
Oh, he's coming up the stairs, I can tell. More later--if I survive.  
  
~  
  
May 13, 1984  
Mother's Day  
  
So, today's Mother's Day. This time next year I'll be a mother, but I won't have a baby.  
  
My own mother officially started talking to people about adopting the baby. She thinks she's found someone in Janlen DuGrey's son. Apparently the DuGreys have been trying to concieve practically since they got married eight years ago. Janlen DuGrey, this lawyer Dad works with sometimes, is vehemently opposed to his son adopting, cuz then it seems like the adopted child is just mooching off of the family for eighteen years.  
  
I don't really want to think about this anymore. I can't handle it. I just want to think about the fact that I have a living, breathing, combination of Chris and me inside of me right now.  
  
Sometimes it kicks. No one else can feel it, but I can. It tickles. It feels like someone's rubbing a fingernail down the inside of my stomach.  
  
Oh, I can't think about this anymore. I'm gonna see if "Time after Time" is on MTV._  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Louise Grant**  
  
Madeline's arranging the junk food meticulously around the coffee table in the entertainment room as I walk towards the stairs to find out where the other two went. It seriously does not take this long to pick out movies--I don't care if Rory got over a thousand movies for her birthday yesterday, sometimes you just want a certain type of movie. So I make it to the first floor landing and there's Paris and Rory, walking down the stairs. Paris, in an amazing show of normalcy, is carrying videos, and it looks like one of them might even be an actual movie, will real actors and writers who insist on insulting her intelligence and making the rest of us happy. Rory, in a shocking show of "Paris-ness", is carrying a leather-bound book with gold pages, reading.  
  
"Hey, bookworm. You don't read at movie nights." I say, grabbing the videos from Paris and reading the titles. "Ooh. A good choice. There's hope for you yet!" I happily run back to the entertainment room with the movies held high above my head, to show Madeline. Paris makes a whiny noise to Rory, who shushes her, and they follow me.  
  
"We need more popcorn," Madeline announces the second we enter the room.  
  
"Rory can get some for us," I say pointedly, looking at the only one of us who actually passed the driver's license test on the first try.  
  
"Let's all go!" Madeline happily exclaims, and I agree.  
  
"Yeah, come on, Rory. Let's put the book down," Paris says, gently extracting the book from Rory's hands and placing it on the table, next to the food.  
  
"But--" Rory starts to protest.  
  
"No buts," Paris shakes her head. "It'll be good for you. Get your head away from all that."  
  
"Fine," Rory sighs and heads for the back door. "Let's go."  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore**  
  
_June 1, 1984  
  
Well, school's out. No more hell for three months. Although, I think my mom might force me into home school until after the baby is born. She seriously mentioned something about sending me to visit my "aunt" for the next five months. I just about off and smacked her right there. Luckily, I didn't, and so I'm still here for another day.  
  
Chris is coming over soon, and we're going to see if we can get enough money out of our parents to go to a series of summer concerts in New York. I would personally love to see Tears for Fears next week, but they're performing in one part of the city while Devo's performing on the opposite side of the city, and the only way I can go in is with Chris, and he'd much rather see Devo, I know that for a fact.  
  
Anyway, I'll probably end up seeing Devo next week, but if I guilt trip Chris enough, I can catch the Bangles and the Go-Go's before the summer's over.  
  
Wish me luck!  
  
~  
  
June 4, 1984  
  
Sure, the DUGREYS are adopting my baby, but that certaily does not mean that I have to meet them. So I don't understand why my stupid mother keeps forcing me to think about them. I would give ANYTHING for a dinner or a day when my mom didn't mention either the DuGreys or my pregnancy or giving the baby up for adoption. It seems to be the only thing she thinks about these days. I swear, I don't even think about it as much as she does.  
  
Whatever.  
  
It's hot today. Seriously hot. Chris is dragging me to Devo in NY in a few days. I made him promise to buy me lots of iced drinks, and to throw ice cubes at me every once in a while. It took some coaxing, but he agreed. Basically everything with him takes a little coaxing till he'll agree. But he always agrees. With me, anyway.  
  
_~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
I can't handle my friends right now.  
  
They're downstairs, watching Thelma and Louise, I think. I don't know, and I don't actually care. All I really want to think about right now is the fact that I now know all about my birth mother.  
  
She's really cool, actually. She's like a regular sixteen-year-old, except in between raving about the best girl group on the planet--The Bangles--she also mentions her mother trying to force her to meet the people who are adopting her baby, and her baby keeps kicking her.  
  
I guess that's me. It's so weird, though, to think about the fact that this teenage girl, who is really cool, is my mother, and the baby she keeps talking about is me.  
  
And I've never met her.  
  
I _have_ to meet her now, if only to prove to myself that the journal is a fluke, and all people grow up, and Lorelai Gilmore is no longer as cool as she was sixteen years ago.  
  
I still have to meet her.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore**  
  
_August 14, 1984  
  
Well, here I am, Martha's Vineyard, for the next two months. How is that, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.  
  
My mother is refusing to send me back to scool, because I am now officially 26 weeks--6 1/2 months--pregnant, and showing so very much that Emily--even though she refuses to let me be seen--is forcing me into this fluffy maternity outfits. They're all really frilly, and I seriously hate them...but lately I've been too meek to stand up to Mom. I don't know why. I think it has something to do with the fact that the DuGreys aren't only popping up in Mom's speech, but every once in a while Chris will talk about them too.  
  
He met them last month.  
  
I know it shouldn't seem that big of a deal to me, but it really is. It also makes it all seem so real.  
  
I have a living baby inside of me.  
  
And once she comes out, she's not mine.  
  
~  
  
October 5, 1984  
  
Mom is graciously letting me go home to Hartford for Lisa's birthday tomorrow, and she's even letting me stay with them till Lisa goes off to school on Monday. So I get to stay in Lisa's room till after ten on Monday morning, and then I'm being shipped back here. While my mother is obviously suffering a mental illness of some sort--she's being way too nice--I am grateful to the gods of friendship who are letting me go home, even if I am almost nine months pregnant and I can't be seen at the party. Whatever--Lis and I are gonna celebrate after the party in her room.  
  
Don't worry, I'm bringing you, so you won't miss out.  
  
~  
  
October 7, 1984  
  
Lisa's downstairs right now, and the live band her parents rented are currently playing a slow song--I can't tell which one cause I've got the Jeffersons keeping me company on Lisa's TV. She's really annoying, sometimes. I seriously think the only reason I'm even here is cause Martha's Vineyard is really tiring. That's probably true.  
  
~  
  
Chris here. Lor's having a baby. She made me write in here. It wasn't me. She doesn't like me writing in here, and I wouldn't do it if she wasn't having a baby. I probably shouldn't even be doing this now.  
  
Okay, so Lor screamed at me to write in here again. She says I should chronicle this huge event for her.  
  
Time: 11:54 pm  
Date: October 7, 1984.  
Location: Hartford Hospital, or whatever it's called.  
  
Lor's got to call her parents, who have to call the DuGreys, who have to "show up and take my own daughter away from me" Lor just yelled.  
  
And now she's yelling, "Chris, you bastard! I hate you so much! I hate you! I'm only sixteen! I hate you! I hate you!" etc, etc.  
  
And now I can hardly write, cause I think she sprained my hand. Lor'll just have to wait till later to finish the story. _


	11. The Middle of the End

Title: Another World  
Chapter Eleven: The Middle of the End  
  
This is my favorite chapter so far! You wanna know why? I did research, that's why. Chris searching on the Internet? I did that. I found those. I looked through all those fabulouse choices, and I found these three that just go perfect together.... But more talk about the other two later.  
  
Anyway, it's really close to ending! I think they meet in the next chapter. Don't worry--I've read every single one of your reviews, and I've noticed a large number of them pleading that Lorelai and Rory don't just fall into each other's arms and gush about how they've been best friends forever, they've just never known it. To quote...some actor I've seen in TNT promos, "without conflict, there'd be no drama." So don't worry, there's plenty of drama. But it's not _all_ drama, cause that'd be really annoying....  
  
Just read.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
One of my favorite movies is a very little known Audrey Hepburn flick. I've only seen it a few times, most recently on the Women's Entertainment network. It's called _Paris When It Sizzles_ and it's absolutely hilarious.  
  
You see, Audrey is this typist who's hired by William Holden, a screenwriter, to type his entire movie in one weekend. There's one problem--he hasn't written it yet.  
  
So William and Audrey spend a weekend writing Bill's movie--filled with so many movie cliches it's not even funny--and somehow imagine themselves as the lead characters who--you guessed it--fall in love. This somehow causes both Bill and Audrey to fall in love...but I have yet to see the end. I keep catching snippets, and the last time it was on TV, I taped it, but it somehow got cut off in the last twenty minutes or so.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Why am I telling you about my woes regarding this movie? Because I got a very interesting visit the other day, and my visitor mentioned something about favorite movies.  
  
So I was trying to remember mine.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Alexis DuGrey**  
  
I shouldn't be doing this. I know for a fact that I should not be doing this.  
  
I should not be kissing my husband goodbye as soon as our plane lands in Paris.  
  
I should not be hopping on the first flight back to the States I can find.  
  
I should not be flying directly back over the Atlantic.  
  
I should not be touching down at Kennedy Airport in New York City.  
  
I should not be hailing a taxi.  
  
I should not be carrying the one measly bag over my shoulder.  
  
I should not be looking for this hotel.  
  
I should not be walking up to the front desk.  
  
I should _certainly_ not be asking for the executive manager.  
  
But I am.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Christopher Hayden**  
  
Being your own boss has endless perks. For instance, it is now four o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon, but am I at the office? Nosir, I'm stretched out on my couch, in my apartment. Granted, I've got my laptop in front of me, but I'm not doing work. Nope, no work for me. This certainly doesn't count as work.  
  
I'm surfing the Internet for the best diamond rings I can find. After a few minutes of looking and finding stuff so extravagant that I _know_ Lorelai would love it for a day but would eventually, cast aside, I finally find the best engagement ring out of all of the thirteen pages. A one and a quarter carat round diamond set in a platinum band. It's simple and elegant, and I know that Lorelai will love it. Now on to the wedding bands.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
_Bored, bored, bored,_ I think to myself. _I am very bored bored bored._  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Lorelai?" the ten-year-old daughter of my front desk clerk pokes her head into my office. I smile.  
  
"Hey, Ashley, what's up?"  
  
"My mom says that someone needs you out here," Ashley explains.  
  
"Oh, okay." I stand up and start walking out of my office. Ashley falls into step beside me and says, "She looks all rich."  
  
I laugh. "Yeah, most everyone here looks all rich." We're now in view of the front desk, and I can see an older woman at the front desk, at least in her forties, dressed immaculately in a beautiful traveling outfit. She's only carrying one bag, which completely goes against the rest of her personality that I can discern from just glancing at her. Ashley runs up to her mother, and I walk around the counter and up to the woman.  
  
"Hello, I'm Lorelai Gilmore, executive manager. I was told you wanted to speak to me?"  
  
"Yes, uh, I did. Do." She shakes her head and laughs nervously. "I guess I'm a little nervous."  
  
"I don't see why, there's no need to be nervous, but if you'd like to, we could step into my office." I gesture to the office I just left, and she nods almost imperceptibly. I nod and start walking, hoping she'll follow me. She does.  
  
"Well, here we are," I say, entering my office. "Please, sit." I gesture to the one seat in front of my desk and sit myself in my very large office chair. She nods and settles herself down, dropping her bag and purse at her feet. I smile and look expectantly at her.   
  
After a minute she clears her throat and tries to begin. She's trying to procrastinate, though, because the first thing out of her mouth is, "Who's this?"  
  
I look at the picture. It's a collage, actually, with pictures of Chris from every year we've been together, starting when we're both six and ending last year. Last year's picture is the biggest one, though. It's a candid of him right after I told him a joke, and he's laughing. His eyes are doing that crinkly thing that I adore, and he's smiling as wide as he can. I smile fondly at it.  
  
"That's Chris."  
  
"Oh. Husband?" she asks, almost hopefully.  
  
"No. Boyfriend."  
  
Her face drops a little, and I feel as though I should rectify the situation.  
  
"But we've basically been together since we were six. I mean, we split up one time when we were twenty-two, but we got back together when we were twenty-eight. He moved in about nine months ago. Is it nine months? Yeah. Wow." I finish talking to her by talking to myself. I look up and she's smiling.  
  
"Wow, that's wonderful. Uh, I guess I should introduce myself."  
  
"That'd be a good start." I smile, then realize somthing and laugh. "Although you're probably a therapist, judging by the way you can sit there and make me spill my life story. Or at least part of it."  
  
"No, I'm not a therapist." She smiles. At least she gets it. "Actually, I think you may have heard my name before."  
  
"Oh?" I ask, feigning interest. Another braggart.  
  
"Yes. You see, I'm...." She trails off, blushes, and looks down. "You can do this, Alexis. Just focus," she whispers to herself. Immediately I wrack my brain, thinking of an Alexis I know. Like who? Alexis...I seriously know no famous Alexises. That's weird.  
  
"This is so hard," Alexis somebody tells me, looking up.  
  
"It shouldn't be hard," I say politely. "Whatever you need, I"m here for you." I am so cheesy at this job, it's not even funny.  
  
"Okay, I guess I can handle that." Alexis smiles and laughs nervously. "All right, I'm just gonna come right out and say it." She smiles tightly. "My name is Alexis DuGrey."  
  
Oh, I am so lucky my ass is not on the floor, cause I think I almost fell out of my chair.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Alexis DuGrey**  
  
Oh, my, that was hard. And she _does_ recognize me, I can tell by her face. She's incredibly pale, and her mouth is hanging open as if she wants to say something but can't. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in everything, focusing on anything but me. I don't say anything, just watch her, knowing that she's filled with a million emotions right now, and she's trying as hard as she can to sort through them. Finally, after what seems like ages, she clears her throat and moves her gaze from her desk to meet my eyes. I smile, slightly.  
  
"So, you're Alexis DuGrey."  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
She smiles. "How is she?"  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good. That's good." Tears are welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Because her birthday was a few days ago. Her--"  
  
"Sixteenth," she interrupts.  
  
"Yes. Her sixteenth. And, I don't know if you remember, but the arangement your mother and I agreed on was--"  
  
"If she wants to, she can now live with me."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Well, if I were her, I certainly would not wish to live with someone I've enver met before."  
  
"Actually, I don't think I would either."  
  
"Right. So I'm planning on meeting her at my parents' party in December."  
  
"You see, I told her that she didn't have to go."  
  
"Oh." Lorelai's gaze goes back to the desk. She traces a whorl in the wood as she says, "And if she doesn't go?"  
  
"We can arrange another time for you to meet her."  
  
"Ah. Well. Is that all?" She looks up at me again. The tears are gone, along with any semblance of friendliness.  
  
"Uh, I suppose so."  
  
"Good." Lorelai stands up. "Now, will you be staying here tonight?"  
  
I stand up also. "I think so, yes."  
  
"Alright. Talk to Colleen at the front desk, she'll check you in. If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be." She grabs her purse and coat and opens the door. Then she pauses, closes the door again, and turns around to me.  
  
"Thank you, for taking care of my baby all these years," she says softly, gazing down at the floor. After she finishes, she looks up at me. "I mean it. None of this could have been possible if it weren't for you."  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
She nods, and opens the door again.  
  
"If it means anything," I start to say, and the door closes abruptly. "I think she really wants to meet you."  
  
With her back still towards me, Lorelai nods, slowly, and then opens the door and leaves. I wait until she's gone, so I don't run into her, and then I walk to the front desk.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Christopher Hayden**  
  
I'm standing anxiously over our printer...anxiously cause Lorelai just called from downstairs saying she'll be home in a few minutes, the printer cause I'm printing out locations of Zales stores near us, to go pick up Lorelai's engagement ring that I just ordered. It _finally_ finishes printing, and I quickly exit out of the website and start shutting the computer down. I close the laptop, unhook it from the printer, grab my jacket--  
  
And the door opens.  
  
Damn. I was so close to a quick escape, and now Lorelai's home, and she'll never let me leave....  
  
She looks upset. _Very_ upset.  
  
"Lor?" I whisper softly. She jumps, realizes it's me, and shakes her head. She hangs up her coat and starts to walk to the couch, but instead of sitting down she throws her arms around my neck and leans into me.  
  
"I met her," she whispers into my shoulder.  
  
"What? Who?"  
  
"The mother of our daughter."  
  
"Oh." That sounds so weird. "Are you okay?"  
  
She nods into my shoulder, and then whispers, "Just hold me."  
  
"Okay," I say, my mind automatically whirring with how I can edge out of the apartment and get the ring. Lorelai sniffles, and then I feel tears on my shoulder. I sigh, slightly. No ring tonight. Oh, well. At least I get to hold Lor. And I do, hugging her tighter to me as the tears come faster. 


	12. The End

Title: Another World  
Chapter Twelve: The End  
  
It's the end! At least, it's the meeting...if I really want to, I'll drag it out more! Do you mind?  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**The Journal of Lorelai Victoria Gilmore  
  
_A note to my daughter on her birthday  
October 8, 1984_**  
  
I love you. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. I don't understand that, and I don't pretend to.  
  
It is very weird to love someone the second you look at them. I know that when you're reading this--hopefully when you're sixteen--you might think_ that you've experienced love at first sight, but there's nothing like the love you feel for your daughter. Of course I love your dad. I've loved your father, Christopher, since I was six, I guess. Although when we were younger we were basically really good friends. We just grew together, I suppose. We grew very very close together, and lo and behold, now I am looking at you.  
  
I hope that you've had a nice life with your adoptive parents. Chris said they seem like nice people. I hope they are, just for your sake.  
  
The nurse is wheeling you into the room right now, and you seem to be a little fussy, so I need to go.  
  
Have a good life. Don't forget me. Please, _please_ don't hate me. Be nice.  
  
Never forget I love you.  
  
Love,  
Lorelai Victoria Gilmore  
10/8/1984_  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
I read the letter that my mom wrote me for the five millionth time, and then slowly close her journal. I'm going to be meeting her tonight. I can hardly wait, but the butterflies in my stomach are flapping their wings so much I feel almost like I'm going to implode. I take a deep breath and look at myself in my full length mirror. I'm wearing a dress that my mother--the one I live with--got for me in Paris, last year when they were there. It's long-sleeved, and goes all the way to my knees. It's a fabulous blue/silver-ish color, and it sparkles and changes shade when I move. I also found some fabulous shoes a few weeks ago, silver high-heeled boots with blue stitching up the side. They go up to my knees, and the bottom of my dress just grazes the top of them. I'm also wearing shiny silver tights, and the only accessory I've got on is this silver locket that I found in an envelope of my birth mom's--let's just call her Lorelai--stuff. Lorelai included pictures of herself throughout her childhood, culminating in a picture of her, Chris--my birth father--and...me, I guess. Lorelai's about six months pregnant, and I think that's right around the time her mom shipped her off to Martha's Vineyard. Anyway, it's a picture of her and Chris sitting on a blanket on a beach, and it looks really artsy. There's a long note on the back, explaining that a friend of hers--a professional photographer--took this picture when both she and Chris weren't looking, and that's why they look so natural.  
  
They look really cool. I feel like I know Lorelai now. Just think, not long from now, I _will_ know her.  
  
"Mary! Grandfather DuGrey's here!" Tristan yells from downstairs. I ignore him and continue fixing my hair. Before long I hear his feet on the stairs.  
  
"Hey, Mare, we need to--" He breaks off as he sees me. "Wow."  
  
"Good wow or bad wow?"  
  
"Good wow. Very good wow. You look amazing."  
  
"Thank you," I smile at him. "Shall we go?"  
  
"Sure. Is that a new necklace?"  
  
"Hmm?" I look down and touch the locket. I smile. "Oh, just a family heirloom."  
  
"Family heirloom?"  
  
"It's from my birth mom."  
  
"Oh." He suddenly gets very quiet. "You're gonna meet her tonight, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And then, if you want to, you can live with her."  
  
I suddenly realize why he's so quiet and stop on the second landing. He stops next to me only when I lay a hand on his arm. "I don't think I'm going to move."  
  
"Really?" His face lights up slightly, but then drops again. "But she's your mom. You should go."  
  
"Here's the thing. She may be my birth mom, but I've never met her. I don't think I really want to live full-time with someone I've never met before. And," I add quickly, "I don't think I could leave either my friends or...you."  
  
"Me?" he practically squeaks.  
  
"Yeah, you. I need to stay here and keep my little brother in line."  
  
"Yeah. Thanks, Rory."  
  
Omigod, he said my name. "You're welcome, Tristan."  
  
I smile at him for a minute, and I'm about to start back down the stairs again when he throws his arms around me. I return the hug.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you, too." Wow. Apparently the only way to get your little brother to act grown-up is to threaten to move out.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
Chris is practically pulling me out of the taxi and into my parents' house. I keep trying to tell him that the party doesn't even start for half an hour, and it's always better to be fashionably late, but he keeps shaking his head and protesting that he doesn't care about the party right now--he's got something to tell me first.  
  
Insane, the man is. Plain and simple.  
  
"Hi, Richard, hi, Emily," he shoots out as we burst into the house and up the stairs.  
  
"Hi, M--" I try to say hello to my parents, but he pulls me up the stairs and around the corner. We reach the landing and I'm expecting him to throw me against the wall and make out with me, but we keep going until we reach my childhood room. He bursts through the door and leads me to the balcony. He climbs through my window, and, just cause he did--and he's still gripping my hand in a death vise--I climb through too.  
  
"Chris, wha--?" I try to ask, but he shushes me.  
  
"Lorelai, I love you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. Not only that, but I'm _in_ love with you. I've thought about this for a very long time, and I've come to a conclusion." He takes a very deep breath, reaches into his jacket pocket, and kneels on one knee. One knee?! OH MY GOD! ONE KNEE!! HE'S ON ONE KNEE!  
  
"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore, will you marry me?"  
  
"Oh...my God...yes! Yes, I'll marry you! Get up get up get up!" I pull him from his position on the ground with the hand that's still locked in his. As soon as he's standing all the way up I throw my arms around him and jump up and down. He laughs and eventually gets me to stop, and then he shows me the ring.  
  
Oh, God. It's the most fabulous ring in the world. It's something like 14 Karat white gold, and there's this 1 1/4 carat round diamond in the center. I mean, 1 1/4 carat? That's ridiculously pricey! But it looks so simple, and elegant, and just perfect on my finger, and I throw my arms around Chris again, and as the string quartet starts downstairs and wafts up to us, we start swaying slowly to the music, forgetting everything else.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Emily Gilmore**  
  
"Hello, and welcome to the Gilmores' Christmas party. My name is--"  
  
I swear to God, the maids just come stupider and stupider.  
  
"No, no, no!" I yell, running from the sitting room where I was speaking to a guest to the foyer to correct my idiot of a maid. "You don't introduce yourself! Just welcome them, take their coats, and direct them to either me or Richard!" I send her off and then turn apologetically to my guests. "I'm so--" I break off. My guest is Janlen DuGrey. Janlen DuGrey, along with two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy looks bored, and is staring off into the distance, but the girl is looking shyly at me and smiling. And her eyes. God, her eyes. I know those eyes. Those are Lorelai's eyes.  
  
"Emily? You all right?" Janlen finally breaks through my shocked silence.  
  
"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Come in, Janlen."  
  
"Thank you, Emily."  
  
"Yes. And these two are?" I ask, gulping and gesturing to the teenagers.  
  
"Oh. This fine young boy here is Tristan, my grandson." Janlen throws a loving arm around Tristan, who still looks bored.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Tristan. I'm Emily Gilmore." I reach out a hand; he shakes it half-heartedly and takes off.  
  
"Yes, well. I have yet to train him."  
  
"Ah," I laugh along with Janlen, but my eyes are focused on the girl. Her eyes are locked in mine, and I can tell she knows who I am. "Er, Janlen, Richard should be in his study."  
  
"Just like Richard to be in his study at a party. I'll get him." Janlen edges off, and the girl and I just look at each other for a minute. Finally I reach out a hand.  
  
"I'm Emily Gilmore."  
  
"I'm...." She trails off, as if looking for a name. "Rory," she finally says, taking my hand.  
  
"Rory." I whisper. "Well, Rory, would you like to meet my husband or my daughter first?"  
  
"Daughter, I suppose," she says quietly.  
  
"Yes. Well, I'm not sure if she's still up there, but about three-quarters of an hour ago she and Christopher ran upstairs."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"If they're still up there, it'd be the third door on the left."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Well...do you want me to come with you?"  
  
"No, I don't think so. Thank you, though."  
  
"Oh, you're welcome. You're very welcome."  
  
"Yeah." She stands there awkwardly for a second, thinking over soemthing in her head. Then all of a sudden she throws her arms around me and squeezes me tightly. "It was nice meeting you."  
  
"You, too." I say, returning the hug. She lets go, smiles at me, and takes the stairs, three steps at a time. She looks so sweet. I can definitely see a little bit of Lorelai in her.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore**  
  
"I love being in your arms," I say to Chris as we're swaying back and forth.  
  
"Same here," he kisses my shoulder, and then starts going down my arm.  
  
"Chris," I giggle. "That tickles."  
  
"Then I'm doing it right."  
  
"Chris. Chris. Christopher," I start to whine.  
  
"Yes, that is my name."  
  
"Christopher," I complain again. He just laughs and continues. Suddenly the door to my room opens and a figure is framed in the light coming in from the hallway. "Chris," I say again, more urgently this time. "Someone's here."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Someone's here," I repeat. "Let's go." I climb through the window and Chris climbs through after me. You know, we haven't let go of each other's hand since we got out of the cab. The figure has started walking towards us, but stops when he or she notices us coming through the window.  
  
"Who is it?" Chris whispers--not very well--to me as he comes through the window.  
  
"Like I'm psychic." I walk closer--pulling Chris with me--to the figure. Close enough to see that it's a girl. A teenage girl. A teenage girl who looks to be just the right age for a certain someone I'm meeting tonight....  
  
"Hi," she says.  
  
"Hi," Chris, oblivious as he can sometimes be, nods. I elbow him.  
  
"Turn on the light."  
  
"Yes, your majesty," he responds, bowing.  
  
"Ooh, majesty, I like that."  
  
"Thought you would." Chris smiles and drops my hand to turn on the light.  
  
"I'm Lorelai," I introduce myself as he walks away.  
  
She nods. "I'm Rory."  
  
Rory. She's Rory. Is she _my_ Rory? "Oh," I say.  
  
Chris turns on the light, and we all squint in the sudden brightness. Then Chris yelps.  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
"Your ring is blinding me," he says jokingly, walking back over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.  
  
"We just got engaged," I explain. She nods again, and then looks up at me. Her eyes. Her eyes are so totally mine. And now I see her nose. That's Christopher's nose.  
  
"Seriously, about thirty minutes ago, out on the balcony." Chris says. So oblivious.  
  
"How long have you been together?"  
  
"Since we were six, save a six-year break-up in our twenties." This is my daughter I'm telling this to. At least, I think it's my daughter. I decide that if it is her, I'll reassure her.  
  
"We even went through this really trying time in our teens, but we made it through. Not every couple can make it through a pregnancy and an adoption."  
  
"Oh!" She looks up. "You are!"  
  
"I am." I nod. "And this is." I gesture to Chris. He's so lost.  
  
"I'm...Lorelai Alexis DuGrey." She smiles for the first time, and holds out her hand.  
  
"Lorelai Victoria Gilmore."  
  
"Christopher James Hayden," Chris says, just because we said our full names. He also shakes Rory's hand.  
  
"So...do I have to change my name now?"  
  
"No, of course not," I say. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. And you certainly don't have to move in with us. I understand that that might be a little overwhelming, especially since you just met us."  
  
"Right. But if I wanted to--"  
  
"Then you could. Our home is always welcome to you. As a matter of fact, we have an extra bedroom in our apartment."  
  
Chris understands now. I can tell by the way he's resting his head on my shoulder, and how tight he's holding me.  
  
"I'm not sure I want to move yet...but...can I visit for Christmas break? Maybe...the day after Christmas?"  
  
"Sure. Anything you want."  
  
"Okay. It's just, my friends are all here, and my brother..."  
  
"I understand completely. I just want you to know that we don't hate you, and we never have. It's just...none of our lives would be the same, if we hadn't given you up. Not to say that they would have been worse, but they wouldn't have been...as good...." I trail off stupidly. Rory smiles.  
  
"Well, I see where I get my inarticulateness from."  
  
"Wow, that's a big word."  
  
"Yeah." She laughs. "Uh, also, can I call you Lorelai and Chris? Cause, I've been reading your journal, and to me, that's who you are."  
  
"Oh, right." I smile. I can hardly remember that journal. "Was it utterly confusing?"  
  
"No, not utterly. It felt just like I was talking to a best friend...except for the references, which were a little dated." She smiles.  
  
"Hey, they weren't dated when I wrote them."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say."  
  
We smile at each other.  
  
"I don't hate you, you know." I say softly.  
  
"I know," she whispers back.  
  
"Good." We smile again, and then Chris clears his throat.  
  
"Perhaps we should go downstairs. Big announcements all around."  
  
"Let's not announce this." Rory says.  
  
"Yeah. It's just between us."  
  
"Okay." Chris nods. "Well, we'll still got a pretty big announcement."  
  
"What?" I ask.  
  
"Um..." Chris nods to my finger. Well, actually, the rock on my finger.  
  
"Oh! God, in all the excitement, I forgot. Wow, it's big. Isn't it?" I hold my left hand out to Rory. She takes it with the correct amount of admiration.  
  
"Wow. That's huge."  
  
"I know. Well. Shall we?" I look from my fiancee to my daughter. God. Weird. They both nod and we start walking downstairs. Rory first, and then me and Chris next, Chris attached to my hand once again.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Tristan DuGrey**  
  
I love parties with champagne. The adults all drink too much, so I get some. And I like champagne. Sophisticated alcohol. Just the way I like it.  
  
I take another sip and glance toward the stairs. I almost choke as I notice my sister walking down the stairs with that couple from New York in Feburary. Her parents. She looks happy, too. I just hope she keeps her promise that she's not gonna move.  
  
"Tris!" She calls happily. She turns to her parents and says something excitedly; they nod, and she joyfully bounds over to me, older version of her and that guy in tow.  
  
"Mary," I nod. "Who's this?"  
  
"Oh, this is Lorelai, and Chris. They just got engaged. Lorelai, Chris, this is my brother, Tristan DuGrey."  
  
"Nice to meet you."  
  
"You, too." Chris nods.  
  
"Tris is the reason I'm staying, basically."  
  
My ears perk up. She's staying. "You're staying?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm gonna be living at home, except every once in a while I'll spend a week or two with them. In New York."  
  
"You're staying." I happily throw my arms around her again, for the second time tonight.  
  
"Tris! You're embarrassing me!" She laughs, so I can tell she doesn't mean it.  
  
"If you'll just excuse us, we're going to talk to my mother," Lorelai says, trying not to interrupt us. I nod for Mary, and they walk off. Mary's staying. She's staying.  
  
~~~~  
  
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Don't worry, this isn't the actual end. We must have the epilogue, and the fact that it's chapter thirteen can only mean good things. Please review! 


	13. Epilogue

Title: Another World  
Epilogue  
  
We shall be time-hopping quite a bit...hopefully I can accurately sum up the ending for you. I will be adding one more character to this chapter, and I hope that no one absolutely hates the addition...I have been waiting--mmm, about thirteen chapters to stick this character in. Anyway, it's the epilogue! Read it! And don't forget to review! So I know it's not really bad! Or even if it is! Thanks!  
  
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**Tristan DuGrey**  
  
"Tris, have you seen my maid of honor hairdress?" Mary calls through the wall between our rooms. I groan. Dear God, does she have to continue rubbing in the fact that she's leaving? For a month, no less.  
  
"No!" I call back. She screams an expletive I'm not sure that I've heard her use before, and then I see her run past my room, hair flying.  
  
"Lupe! Lupe!" she yells from downstairs. She can be extremely loud when she wants to be.  
  
"Beep, beep! Time to leave! Beep, beep!" Mary's countdown clock in her room starts going off, and I know from experience that it just keeps going till you turn it off, and seeing as Mary's not in her room right now....  
  
I duck quickly from my room and into my sister's. She's got three closed suitcases stacked next to her bed, and one open one laying on her bed. Her maid of honor dress is hanging on her door, and I can see that lying on top of her dresser is her wedding present. She's been working on it for half a year. I walk over to it and slowly pick it up.  
  
"Christopher and Lorelai," it boasts in big, curly, script. Mary's script. And then, in smaller letters beneath it, it says, "Together forever, married June 15, 2002." That's tomorrow.  
  
The reason Mary's rushing so much is because she tried on all of her maid of honor outfits last night in front of her best friends, and then they spent the night. Seeing as how they went to bed at, oh, about five this morning, they didn't really wake up till eleven, and Mary's train is scheduled at two. It is now one thirty, and it takes at least ten minutes to get to the train station. For some strange reason, unknown to me, I offered to drive her there. I don't know why I'm so acommodating and wish to send her away for a month, but I am.  
  
She's been visiting her birth parents on most of her holidays from school, and quite a few weekends. She spent four weeks in New York last summer--two at the beginning, and two at the end. But _this_ time. Oh, this time she's spending a full solid month there--at least! She's her mother's maid of honor--basically she's been rushing out there every single weekend--so she's got to be there for the wedding, but she's also going to _house-sit_ for two weeks while they're on their honeymoon, and _then_ when they get _back_, she's going to spend _another_ week there, just hanging out with her newly married parents.  
  
Oh, and get this: She's changing her name. She already changed her name to Lorelai Alexis DuGrey Gilmore, but _now_ she's changing it to Lorelai Alexis DuGrey Gilmore Hayden. She still goes by Rory DuGrey, but she applied for all these _colleges_--in NEW YORK--as Rory Gilmore Hayden. She's crazy. I mean, sure, they're her parents...but they could be insane, for all she knows!  
  
But she likes them, and they like her. I can tell.  
  
I just want her to be happy. _And_ live at home.  
  
~~~~  
  
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~~~~  
  
**Rory DuGrey**  
  
Lorelai and Chris are married! It's so hard to believe, yet so believable at the same time. My parents are married. It's wonderful news.  
  
Yesterday, right before the ceremony, we all went down to City Hall and got my name changed to Lorelai Alexis DuGrey Gilmore Hayden. I can still go by Rory DuGrey, but I'm going to apply to colleges as Rory Hayden. Especially New York colleges. I want to get into an amazing university, and while NYU isn't the most prestigious in the world, Columbia's pretty high up there, and it's relatively close to where Lorelai and Chris live, so I'm hoping for that.  
  
Ahh! I still can't believe this! My life has changed so much in the last...year and a half. I met my birth parents--who ended up being really cool. I mean, it was a little awkward at first, and it still can be awkward at times, but they're basically really cool older versions of me.  
  
Especially Lorelai. It's amazing how much we seem to be alike. Aside from the looks, we have the same taste in movies, music, clothes, food...basically everything. Except I read a little more than she does. But Chris reads. That's where I get that from. I've borrowed everything from Chris' collection and even added to it, and he's added to mine. I've been spending quite a few weekends in New York--the best city in the world--and even a few holidays.  
  
My ass of a brother sulks around every time I leave--Mom tells me that. He also annoys me when I get back, so I usually lock myself into my room and don't allow him in.  
  
I seriously do not understand Tris. I mean, I've been living at home for the past year and a half, and I'm going to continue living at home until college, even though I have been legally able to live with Lorelai and Chris since my sixteenth birthday two years ago come October. The only reason I'm still living in stupid Hartford is because of Tris. And Paris, Madeline, and Louise.  
  
But still. He doesn't have to be such an ass.  
  
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~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Gilmore Hayden**  
  
I squeal inwardly as I write my new name. Lorelai Gilmore Hayden. It just seems so sophisticated, and wordly, and....  
  
Ah, screw it! I'm married I'm married I'm married to Christopher! That's why I'm so thrilled! I can't tell you how many of my junior high and high school notebooks are scrawled with hearts and the names "Lorelai Gilmore Hayden. Mrs. Christopher Hayden. Mrs. Lorelai Hayden. Christopher and Lorelai Hayden."  
  
I love my new name! I love Christopher! I love Barbados! I love honeymoons! I love the sun! I love the sand! I love the water! I love it when Chris....  
  
Oh, Chris....  
  
~~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~~  
  
**Christopher Hayden**  
  
It's really interesting how having the same last name and spending a month together can really make you seem like a family.  
  
I say this because recently my daughter became my legal daughter...and my girlfriend, who's always felt like something more, became legally connected to me for life...hopefully.  
  
Rory's still living with her adoptive parents, mainly because her life is in Hartford. Next year, though, she's moving in with us, as she's just been accepted to Columbia University in the city. She was so thrilled when she found out that she hijacked her brother's car and drove out here to see us. She and Lorelai laughed for about thirty minutes, and then Lor sent her out to buy something--a book, a CD, something to commemorate the fact that she'd made it into her top choice. Even though Rory's always gotten everything she's ever wanted from the DuGreys, it seems that even if we give her a small token of affection, she takes it and treasures it like it's the most valuable thing in the world. To her, I guess it is.  
  
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**Jess Mariano**  
  
_Classics_?  
  
No, I just finished reading Jane Austen--that's my classics quota for the week, and my feminist views quota.  
  
_Historical Fantasies_?  
  
What? They have their own section? That's crap.  
  
I continued browsing, and eventually stopped in the _Relatively New Releases_ section. God, who labels these? They need to keep their day job.  
  
Nick Hornby's About A Boy had just been re-released to amount for the momentum of the movie--that's actually a little better than the book, even if they don't mention Kurt Cobain at all. Not mentioning Kurt Cobain deducts points, but including the chick from _The Mummy_--don't ask me how I know that--adds a few.  
  
My eyes scanned the titles and stopped at a certain one. The Fuck-Up. I read about that on the internet--apparently you don't need that much attention or brain-power to absorb it. Perfect for taking a trip to Stars Hollow, so mind-dumbingly sweet you needed _something_ to take your mind off of it. I grabbed the book and started to the counter, nodding at Susan, owner of Bookends, the little bookstore I was browsing in, as I passed her.  
  
Apparently, while I was nodding, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, as the next thing I did was bump directly into someone.  
  
"Oh, sorry," we said at the same time, and then I looked up.  
  
Beautiful. She was beautiful. She was my height, maybe a little shorter, with dark brown hair that reached halfway down her back and sparkling blue eyes. Wonderful, beautiful, captivating sparkling blue eyes.  
  
"It's okay," she said, smiling at me. Her eyes were sparkling with happiness and her cheeks were slightly flushed, both from the cold outside and the embarrassment of running into someone in a bookstore. I looked down at her hands and noticed the book. The Old Man and the Sea. I looked back up at her. This was definitely her first Hemingway.  
  
"Don't do that," I said, pointing to the book.  
  
"Don't do what?" she asked, confused.  
  
"Don't get that as your first Hemingway."  
  
"Oh?" she said defensively, putting her hands on her hips. "And what makes you think this is my first Hemingway?"  
  
"Mainly because you were getting The Old Man and the Sea, and judging by your reaction, I was right."  
  
She blushes, slightly. "Oh. Yeah. So, what should I get?"  
  
I smiled, cocked my head to the left, and gestured for her to follow me.  
  
She did.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
**Lorelai Alexis DuGrey Gilmore Hayden  
aka Rory**  
  
I have a boyfriend.  
  
He of course is only my second boyfriend ever, but he reads. And while we don't have the exact same taste in anything--from books to music to movies to food--we can always find some hollow ground. Of course, when we really can't find anything at all to do, we kiss. We do a lot of kissing. It takes away from the fighting, and then of course we always make up after we fight, adding more kissing to our resume of date activities.  
  
I like Jess. I really really like Jess. He met my parents a few weeks ago--both pairs--and while Tris threatened to beat him to a pulp, Jess just shook his head and laughed.  
  
I really really like Jess. I like him a whole helluva lot. He's going to NYU, so we see each other a lot. Of course, as soon as we graduate in a year, he's heading to California to meet his dad. He's never met him.  
  
I can relate.  
  
~~~~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
~~~~  
  
And Life Goes On.... 


End file.
